A Bloody Battle: The 525th Hunger Games
by Arcticmist
Summary: A SYOT that follows the rules *repost* and first in the New Games Saga. Centuries after the failed rebellion, another year brings another Quarter Quell in the Capitol's undying quest for revenge. Three tributes from the thirteen Districts will battle it out in a terrifying show. Who will prevail and who will die with the rest? Rated T for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

Note: Hi guys it's been awhile this story got taken down, was put back up, taken down after I read a conspiracy theory online about fanfiction being illegal, and is now back up. Also, I wrote most of this like a year ago so my writing has improved greatly since then.

_Disclaimer- I DON'T OWN THE HUNGER GAMES_

_Dear whoever reported this,_

_I followed the rules; you made me angry STOP IT ALRIGHT! Sorry, I sound like a troll, I am just mega pissed right now so excuse me alright? *rage had to be censored*_

_Arcticmist_

**AN: This is a SYOT story, but before you report I want you to read the WHOLE thing. (YEAH PERSON WHO REPORTED IT… GO BACK IN MY BRAIN ARCTICBITCH I DIDN'T GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO LEAVE MY BRAIN- sorry I have alternate personalities…) I am going this with the rules because I do not want to be banned and I also don't want to have my work deleted. Plus my tributes ALL CAME from pm. Please say if I am doing something wrong through this instead of reporting. This is closed as it should have already been up before its deleting. **

**Chapter 1: The Quell Card**

In the Districts, every citizen shook in fear. Mothers grabbed onto their children's shoulders wondering if this year would be their last. After the failed second rebellion Quells became more and more vicious and the 525th Hunger Games was already guaranteed to be a bloodthirsty battle.

In the wealthier Districts, the careers sat in excitement wondering if they could indeed volunteer this year. Many had already planned to be the tribute, and the victor of this Quell. After all, Quell victors gained more fame then the average victor.

After the rather disappointing end to the 524th Hunger Games where the careers were not very strong and no one really wanted to kill, the Capital was thirsty for more blood. They wanted more Hunger Games causalities to the ever growing amount.

This was the mood as President Lukas Snow (the great- great- great- great- great and then some grandson of the Snow in the time of the second rebellion) mounted the stage. Like all of the Capital citizens he was quite weird in appearance. He has snow white hair and swirling white tattoos all over his smoky colored skin. And his eyes were dark red, the ancient sign of an evil person.

He was holding a small box filled with the twists of Quell cards for hundreds- if not thousands of years. Supposedly each year more cards are added, the Capital expects the Hunger Games to go on forever. The Games were a yearly punishment on the 13 Districts for long ago deeds that the descendants of the rebels had no part in.

The card the president of Panem draws is marked "525." He raises the microphone to his tall height and begins to speak.

"Ladies and gentleman it is time to present the Quarter Quell twist for the 525th Hunger Games." The Capital citizens go wild with applause.

"In the 25th Hunger Games, the Districts had to vote on which tributes would enter the arena. The victor that year was Wind Charles, the male tribute from District 1."

"In the 50th Hunger Games, the Districts were forced to send twice as many tributes into the arena. The victor in this year was Haymitch Abernathy, the male tribute from District 12."

"In the 75th Hunger Games the tributes were reaped from a pool of alive victors. That year the arena was destroyed and a rebellion began. This rebellion was put down and the tributes involved were executed. The title of victor that year was given to Enobaria Curt from District 2 as she was the only survivor not to be involved in the plot."

"In the 100th Hunger Games, the Districts sent in the normal amount of tributes. However, the Capital had to vote on which tributes would die. The victor that year was Hannah Le'Call from District 5."

"In the 125th Hunger Games tributes of all ages were eligible to compete in the Games. The victor was Shannon Hermes from District 4 and was oldest tribute ever to win at age 26."

"In the 150th Hunger Games, 10 tributes from each District were sent to battle in the arena. The victor that year was Kain Little from District 11."

"In the 175th Hunger Games, the normal amount was sent into the arena. However, only a boy could become victor. The victor this year was Zeus Young from District 2."

"In the 200th Hunger Games, all of the tributes had to lose some part of their body. The victor that year was Felt Burgundy of District 1, who lost her left eye."

"In the 225th Hunger Games, 2 expecting women were thrown into the arena. The winner was Amethyst Jackson of District 9."

"In the 250th Hunger Games only those with disabilities of any age were eligible for the Games. The victor that year was Sage McDonald of District 10, who has a crippled arm."

"In the 275th Hunger Games, only children 10-13 could be chosen. The victor that year was Kimberly Richards of District 2, who was 11 years old."

"In the 300th Hunger Games, each tribute was given a spirit mutt of a dead tribute from the previous Games. The victor of this year was Clark Adams from District 4."

"In the 325th Hunger Games the Games had to be resolved within that day or savage mutts would be unleashed to kill the remainders. The victor this year was District 2's Layla Carter."

"In the 350th Hunger Games the tributes were given a random partner who would die if they did. However, if that person killed their partner they would not die. Two tributes were not allowed to win under any circumstances. The victor this year was Sparkle Jade of District 1."

"In the 375th Hunger Games each tribute was given supplies based on their observed weaknesses. They had to work with what they couldn't use. The victor in this year was the female tribute from District 8, Clothida Hemlock."

"In the 400th Hunger Games only a girl tribute could come out victorious. If a male should win he would be executed and the last standing girl brought back. The victor that year was Amata Lee from District 4."

"In the 425th Hunger Games the tributes were completely by themselves for the whole event. No mentors, sponsors, stylists, or prep teams were allowed. The victor this year was Henry Jacobson from District 3."

"In the 450th Hunger Games prisoners from each District had to compete. The victor this year was Hugo Lance form District 6."

"In the 475th Hunger Games each District had to send in 8 tributes. The victor from this year was Exotic Clause from District 1."

"In the 500th Hunger Games, only children of the most important officials in their District were reaped. The victor was Anubis Kun of District 7."

After all of the past Quells are read President Snow began to read the card, "In order to remind the rebels that the Capital can change the rules any time it so desires, 3 tributes from each of the 13 Districts will be placed into the arena to fight. One girl, one boy, and the third will come from a pool of mixed genders."

The non-career Districts cringed in horror and the careers high fived one another in glee. And in the Capital there was laughter, hoots, and hollers. This was going to be a very bloody show.

**AN: I am not going on with 69- The Ultimate Parody Games because I didn't save any of the forms from anonymous reviewers whose REVIEWS I PLANNED TO DELTE ALONG WITH THE LIST CHAPTERS! Sorry for my outbursts, I should be back to normal soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A note to an anonymous reviewer "67" (if you are not them you may want to skip this over.)- I am not "begging for tributes" and I most certainly already have plenty of ideas for these Games. Oh and J.K Meowling epic pwnage and very good point. Please keep all opinions to yourself and go read a fic you have something good to say about. And I have plenty of creativity (I write much more than this).**

**AN: Here is the list; each list chapter will have a sort of prologue so I don't get annoyed with only posting lists. I accepted everyone and the Districts worked out nicely. Remember I would like some 3****rd**** tribute boys too. I know people seem to prefer creating girls for some reason. If you hate the description I write feel free to write another one. That's only for the description I am not rewriting half a chapter. Then I'll just improve. Oh and my policy on reservations is I need them 2 reaping chapters ahead of their District. For Districts 2 and one it is basically once the final list is up. For example, 3 will be needed at 1 and 7 will be needed at 5. And I will get to the descriptions and the prologue chapters will start after this. Honestly, this takes a LOT more work than it looks like. And this will probably get deleted when I've finished everything.**

**Spots open (so if you want to submit another you don't have to go through the list.): D1 male, D2 female, D2 male, D2 3****rd**** tribute, D3 female, D3 3****rd**** tribute, D5 male, D5 3****rd**** tribute, D6 female, D7 female, D7 male, D8 3****rd**** tribute, D9 female, D9 male, D9 3****rd**** tribute, D10 male, D11 female, D11 male, D13 male. So that means there are 19 spaces left available. I am setting no limit on the number of tributes you can submit, but please be reasonable. I am hoping I can trust everyone's idea of "going overboard." I have all of the tribute information saved onto both my computer and IPod so unless my computer AND IPod combust I won't need the info again. Oh and I would like some 13-14ish year olds please I want a variety of ages.**

**District 1 (Luxury Items)**

Girl: Zarina Peterana (17)-

Boy: OPEN

3rd Tribute: Aaliyah Lessia (15)- description coming shortly (when I get the entire form it is on the bottom of the first page I answered your question)

**District 2 (Mining stones/gemstones)**

Girl: OPEN

Boy: OPEN

3rd Tribute: OPEN

**District 3 (electronics and explosives)**

Girl: OPEN

Boy: Mario Lichen* (12) - a nervous fidgety boy who grew up in the sheltered world that his parents built around him. He has never watched the Games and is unprepared to fight. All he knows is the odds definitely aren't in his favor. _(Arcticmist)_

3rd Tribute: OPEN

**District 4 (Fishing and water)**

Girl: Eos Rivers* (16) - an outcast in District 4, Eos has always been shy and knows one thing- her hate for the Hunger Games. Eos has never trained in her life and would rather spend her days reading philosophy. But when the volunteering ceases in her District, she knows she is in deep trouble. _(Arcticmist)_

Boy: Fargo Colson (16)-

3rd Tribute: Erin Olympia Parker (17)-

**District 5 (DNA splicing/mutts)**

Girl: Amelia "Amy" Rivers (17)-

Boy: OPEN

3rd Tribute: OPEN

**District 6 (medicine) **

Girl: OPEN

Boy: Nate Biggleton* (14) - this kid is one word- snobbish. As the son of the baker his family has always believed in the importance of wealth. Nate believes that people will just sponsor him and no one will let him die- turns out he is wrong, Nate is one of the most hated in his District for his sheer arrogance. _(Arcticmist)_

3rd Tribute: Keith Stryker* (15) - the school bully, Keith enjoys tormenting other kids for his enjoyment. Everyone seems to think he was born for the Hunger Games and in another life was a career tribute. Of course he thinks it too, that's why he volunteered himself. Tough and rude he definitely will be a career member, or target. _(Arcticmist)_

**District 7 (lumber and paper)**

Girl: OPEN

Boy: OPEN

3rd Tribute: Adrianna Wilson* (17) - Adrianna is a runt and has been bullied all of her life. Unable to hold steady friendships and an outcast for her lack of skills in the lumber yard, Adrianna has become a strong pessimist and gives up far too easily. Forced to work in the lumber yards, but is really quite unskillful and useless. She was a great dancer and artist, but she has forgotten in her pain. _(Arcticmist)_

**District 8 (textiles)**

Girl: Francisca Hamilton* (18) - District 8's pretty girl, she is the most popular one in school and always has at least 3 boyfriends. But really she is a dune, not smart at all, and does horrible in school. She doesn't even have rich parents to buy her stuff. She holds grudges deeply and is deathly afraid of dying.

Boy: Xander Smith* (13) - Xander has been tortured all his life by Peacekeepers who seem to just want his pain. He works in the shoe factory and is paid little for the ridiculously long hours he puts in. He is smart, but has little chance to let his true essence shine. Though being hard working will certainly give him an advantage.

3rd Tribute: OPEN

**District 9 (food processing)**

Girl: OPEN

Boy: OPEN

3rd Tribute: OPEN

**District 10 (livestock)**

Girl: Rose Dwarfs* (12) - Rose isn't your typical sweet 12 year old girl. No just the opposite, Rose has a loud sharp mouth and is willing to speak her mind on anything. Her fiery red hair definitely matches her sharp attitude. She will never accept sympathy, but will speaking up about the Capital be her ultimate downfall?

Boy: OPEN

3rd Tribute: RESERVED

**District 11 (agriculture)**

Girl: OPEN

Boy: OPEN

3rd Tribute: Bloom Mozart* (15) - Mozart yes like the composer. However, Bloom has no musical talent at all in herself. She is intelligent and grew up on a farm, a master at healing and edible plants. She believes the Games are irrational and when thrown into the arena suddenly forgets all that she can do.

**District 12 (coal mining)**

Girl: Ester London* (16) - Ester has grown up in the Seam amongst the poorest and probably the most hated in her District. Her father went on a mass killing spree when she was 11 and was executed. Poor Ester then lost all of her friends who realized that Ester was too much like her father. Though Ester may be unstable and arrogant, she certainly isn't going to let her shame step in her way.

Boy: Alder "Al" Grey

3rd Tribute: Casey Trump* (18) - the mayor's soon he is canny and political, very intelligent. He is stuck up and full of himself and what he can do. He daddy's boy who knows his father will always help him get his way, but not when it comes to the Hunger Games.

**District 13 (nuclear development)**

Girl: Ariadne Rames (15)-

Boy: OPEN

3rd Tribute: Angelina Coin* (12) - yes Coin, you heard it_ Coin_, she is the descendent of President Alma Coin during the 3rd rebellion. She is sarcastic and manipulative and knows one thing- she's doomed. Of course the reapings were most likely rigged to select her. But part of her is determined to be District 13's first Quell victor, but coming from the District with the second lowest victor rate AND being 12 will make this very difficult for her.

**Please do not submit tributes in the spots taken on this list, at least look at the reviews. This makes the whole process a whole lot easier for me.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2: Planning**

Head Gamemaker Vincent Stars has been at his job for 36 years now. He was recently promoted after the death of Thalia Pike, the beloved Gamemaker of nearly 56 years.

These were his first Games as the head and a Quell at that, Stars was going to make this a show to be remembered by the ages. He had always wanted to make this arena, why it was something he thought of as a kid.

Vincent Stars thought of the arena when he was 12 years old. District kids never liked turning 12, but Capital kids loved to be the age of some of the kids on TV. The arena that year was a swamp. In the middle of the swampy land was a vast hole. Each day the arena shrunk and shrunk until all of the 6 remaining tributes were put into a dark hole.

After entering the hole the tributes had to fight. Since it was pitch black (though the Capital could see everything going on perfectly), the fight lasted for nearly 2 days. In the end, the District 2 girl (Cornelia Flatts) was victorious.

Now the arena was set, District 5 had created the mutts. All of the twists and turns were plotted. And he was standing there in front of the large 36 monitors, waiting for the tributes. The reaping broadcast would be up soon and he waited.

What lucky, or poor, souls would get this once in a lifetime chance? Yes once in a lifetime, for 35 of these tributes were fated to die.

This was going to be the most brutal Games in history. He knew that the victor, whoever they were, would be pretty darned lucky.

The TV flicked on and the escort from District 1 shouted, "Welcome to the District 1 reapings for this year's HUNGER GAMES!" As always with careers the whole District burst out in applause.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: sort of final list- this story is now officially CLOSED *confetti flies everywhere* for my reservations I once again would like those forms 2 Districts before their chapter. So guys I love your tributes, but I have to say no more submitting. I am excited to start the reapings and will as soon as I organize all of the tribute documents and my planning (I usually don't do character and planning documents so bear with me). Sorry if your description sucks I was having trouble motivating myself to do them since I really want to get on with the reapings and finish them because reapings are not fun to write. So until I finish the reapings this will be my first priority. Then it will move back away because I got over the first struggle. Also, this chapter took so long because I had an organization meltdown when I lost 4 forums in my clutter, but I found them organized only this portion and am back to writing this story! I love all of the tributes I got, even the ones I couldn't use! It will be hard to kill these tributes, but I only have a few deaths planned out (and that's only for the bloodbath fodder and two possible deaths that really need working out and might not be even **_**given **_**to the possible tributes that I think could get them and such).**

**District 1 (Luxury Items)**

Girl: Zarina Peterana (17) - Zarina is the daughter of District 1's mayor and has always thought the Games were twisted and cruel. However, she knows that this is her chance to prove everyone wrong and to make them realize that she isn't just an easily forgotten girl.

Boy: Jewel Mylar (17) - Jewel often plays a gentleman angle in his life, but like all District 1 tributes he can be pretty violent. Even though he cares about his looks, this career isn't afraid to kill and get dirty in the process.

3rd Tribute: Aaliyah Lessia (15) – Vicious and determined, pink- eyed Aaliyah has always dreamed of winning the Games. She is a brutal girl whose motive is clear- to kill and win these Hunger Games. Nothing will ever stand in her way. This career is definitely not one to go down without a bloody fight.

**District 2 (Mining stones/gemstones)**

Girl: Pace Gibson (15) - The younger sister of two previous victors, Pace at first seems like a pleasant person. However, she is quite cocky. Humorous when you get to know her, Pace has always been the youngest child and hasn't gotten much attention from her parents. Pace certainly is a good fighter, but afraid to challenge those bigger and stronger than she is.

Boy: Sai 'Canaletto' Ring (16) - *note I didn't get a personality description for him so I made one up as to what I thought he is the kind of person to be* Sai prefers to be called Canaletto; you might find yourself bleeding on the floor otherwise. With powerful wrists and a strong grip, Canaletto's sheer strength will give him an advantage. Determined to win to bring honor to himself, Canaletto is never going to stop fighting- ever.

3rd Tribute: Rhine Emmerson (17) - Rhine's father won the Hunger Games, so she has lived in Victor's Village all her life. However, she doesn't get along with her famous dad much anymore, because he tried to make her be perfect all of the time. She is judgmental and it is very hard to gain her trust. Rhine surely doesn't care about life making her a very good tribute, right?

**District 3 (electronics and explosives)**

Girl: Amelia "Amy" Rivers (17) - A very loyal girl, probably is one of the least likely tributes in these Games to kill her District partners. She hopes that she doesn't have to fight either of them though. After the death of her good friend, Alyss, in the 521st Hunger Games, Amy has become terrified of the dark. Smart and good at science, Amy's knowledge of chemicals could definitely give her a boost in the Games.

Boy: Mario Lichen* (12) - a nervous fidgety boy who grew up in the sheltered world that his parents built around him. He has never watched the Games and is unprepared to fight. All he knows is the odds definitely aren't in his favor. _(Arcticmist)_

3rd Tribute: Wolf Cain (18) - Where have we heard that name before? Ah yes Wolf is the son of Wolf Cain Sr. one of District 3's victors. Wolf is now a loner, but it wasn't always that way. After a horrible betrayal by someone he thought was his friend, Wolf has never let it go. And sometimes the past can destroy someone in the Games just like the Games themselves.

**District 4 (Fishing and water)**

Girl: Eos Rivers* (16) - an outcast in District 4, Eos has always been shy and knows one thing- her hate for the Hunger Games. Eos has never trained in her life and would rather spend her days reading philosophy. But when the volunteering ceases in her District, she knows she is in deep trouble. _(Arcticmist)_

Boy: Fargo Colson (16) - Fargo was abandoned as a baby and is now the adopted son of a Christian pastor who has raised Fargo has never trained in his life, though he has gotten in a few fights with those that enjoy hurting animals. From the second Fargo was chosen he knew one thing, that he can only kill a tribute that is truly a monster.

3rd Tribute: Erin Olympia Parker (17) - Most people believe that Erin is cruel because she has trained all her life for the Games. However, she is pretty nice and only enters the Games to return home to her family in District 4. A strong swimmer with a starfish tattoo, Erin is against bullying and is not afraid to stand up for what she thinks.

**District 5 (DNA splicing/mutts)**

Girl: Mela Servitore (16) - Mela is an odd girl who loves to dance around. Her father is a previous victor whose tongue was mutilated in his Games much like an Avox so he cannot mentor anymore tributes. She is a voice of reason with a fierce streak. Mela knows she has to go for the simple angle so the other tributes don't think a whole lot of her.

Boy: Jeno Shirak (13) - He is an energetic and cheerful boy whose mother always hated the Games and tried her hardest to shelter him from them. He is from a rare middle class family and definitely will try to win even if he isn't sure himself.

3rd Tribute: Chrissy Santoro (15) - Chrissy is sarcastic and hates the Capital with a fiery passion. Even though she hates the Games, Chrissy volunteers to save her 12- year old sister, Karah from the Games. And since she's here now Chrissy might as well make the best of the remainder of her life.

**District 6 (medicine) **

Girl: Julia Thomas (15) - Julia is an independent, cocky girl who volunteered for her best friend so that she wouldn't die. She comes from a family that enjoys playing by the Capital's many strict rules. Except Julia who doesn't listen to her peacekeeper father and really truly hate him. She lost her mother 3 years ago and since has become an outcast in her District.

Boy: Nate Biggleton* (14) - this kid is one word- snobbish. As the son of the baker his family has always believed in the importance of wealth. Nate believes that people will just sponsor him and no one will let him die- turns out he is wrong, Nate is one of the most hated in his District for his sheer arrogance. _(Arcticmist)_

3rd Tribute: Keith Stryker* (15) - the school bully, Keith enjoys tormenting other kids for his enjoyment. Everyone seems to think he was born for the Hunger Games and in another life was a career tribute. Of course he thinks it too, that's why he volunteered himself. Tough and rude he definitely will be a career member, or target. _(Arcticmist)_

**District 7 (lumber and paper)**

Girl: Tilda Axelway (15) - This tough axe-swinging girl is ready to fight in these Games. After all you're in the Games to fight. Most boys back home secretly fear this tall girl who will beat them up when they pick a fight with her. She is often disliked by her peers by stopping unfair fights, though she loves a good battle.

Boy: Raynold "Ray" Malone (13) - This rich boy has a cocky and rude attitude to those who are not wealthy like he is. Muscular from cutting trees all of his life and a rather odd movement that seems to produce careers from District 7 of all places. Ray knows that this is his time to fight, and he is thrilled to participate in this year's Games.

3rd Tribute: Adrianna Wilson* (17) - Adrianna is a runt and has been bullied all of her life. Unable to hold steady friendships and an outcast for her lack of skills in the lumber yard, Adrianna has become a strong pessimist and gives up far too easily. Forced to work in the lumber yards, but is really quite unskillful and useless. She was a great dancer and artist, but she has forgotten in her pain. _(Arcticmist)_

**District 8 (textiles)**

Girl: Francisca Hamilton* (18) - District 8's pretty girl, she is the most popular one in school and always has at least 3 boyfriends. But really she is a dunce, not smart at all, and does horrible in school. She doesn't even have rich parents to buy her stuff. She holds grudges deeply and is deathly afraid of dying.

Boy: Xander Smith* (13) - Xander has been tortured all his life by Peacekeepers who seem to just want his pain. He works in the shoe factory and is paid little for the ridiculously long hours he puts in. He is smart, but has little chance to let his true essence shine. Though being hard working will certainly give him an advantage.

3rd Tribute: Seren Wispis (14) - Seren is a pale, sickly boy who only has one good friend because he believes that he will probably die young to begin with. Even though he is week he is calm and mature, gets the big picture and loves to write and draw. When his best friend is chosen, Seren volunteers even if it means losing his life.

**District 9 (food processing)**

Girl: Alara Lee (14) - Alara is an outgoing klutz who can make friends with almost anyone. Even though she is a horrible fighter, Alara can make allies and find edible food very quickly. This sheltered, sweet girl was terrified of being reaped and fears the Games above all else.

Boy: RESERVED

3rd Tribute: Jess Haververon (14) - A positive and optimistic girl, Jess likes helping others out and did not want to be sent into the Games. However, don't these things happen for a reason? Jess grew up in comfortable wealth and is from a well-respected family. But the big question is can she make it?

**District 10 (livestock)**

Girl: Rose Dwarfs* (12) - Rose isn't your typical sweet 12 year old girl. No just the opposite, Rose has a loud sharp mouth and is willing to speak her mind on anything. Her fiery red hair definitely matches her sharp attitude. She will never accept sympathy, but will speaking up about the Capital be her ultimate downfall?

Boy: Jai Warren (12) - A scared boy who has grown up in the poorer section of his District, Jai lost his sister Bliss in a previous hunger Games. Bliss was murdered in the bloodbath. In fear of being reaped himself, Jai has trained with a kitchen knife though he is not anywhere close to being a career. His skill with blades and swiftness will help Jai out a tin.

3rd Tribute: RESERVED

**District 11 (agriculture)**

Girl: Scarlet Jane Marian (12) - a sharp-tongued, rash, and brave girl Scarlet would rather be left alone in a corner to think by herself. She has many enemies and is great at keeping quiet. Scarlet doesn't know that when she was 9 she was found by her mother with her twin brother. It is believed she came from District 13, but now one, not even she knows for sure.

Boy: RESERVED

3rd Tribute: Bloom Mozart* (15) - Mozart yes like the composer. However, Bloom has no musical talent at all in herself. She is intelligent and grew up on a farm, a master at healing and edible plants. She believes the Games are irrational and when thrown into the arena suddenly forgets all that she can do.

**District 12 (coal mining)**

Girl: Ester London* (16) - Ester has grown up in the Seam amongst the poorest and probably the most hated in her District. Her father went on a mass killing spree when she was 11 and was executed. Poor Ester then lost all of her friends who realized that Ester was too much like her father. Though Ester may be unstable and arrogant, she certainly isn't going to let her shame step in her way.

Boy: Alder "Al" Grey (18) - All looks more like a young man than a boy. He has grown up in the community home after being taken away from his family (whom he never met) at a young age. Most of his friends are also from the community home also. He has always had to be passionate and to work hard to survive in the harsh world of District 12. Nowadays he works as a clerk for a shop, which has helped him a lot. Mature from witnessing so much in the community home, but is that enough to get him through the Hunger Games?

3rd Tribute: Casey Trump* (18) - the mayor's soon he is canny and political, very intelligent. He is stuck up and full of himself and what he can do. He daddy's boy who knows his father will always help him get his way, but not when it comes to the Hunger Games.

**District 13 (nuclear development)**

Girl: Ariadne Rames (15) - Ariadne is an unhealthy looking girl who can be sharp and sarcastic at times. A class clown she loves making people laugh and is a rather unpredictable person. From a poor family, Ariadne was always known for wandering out of the house and exploring the District. Ariadne lost her older sister Erica when she was young, but she doesn't really remember her.

Boy: Zene Celsius (13) – Zene is a stoic, cold, and calculating person. He is smart and calm and very difficult to surprise. He will wait for all of the tributes to kill each other off so that he can win these Games. His logical frame of mind will give him an advantage, but his lack of open- mindedness will also hurt him too.

3rd Tribute: Angelina Coin* (12) - yes Coin, you heard it_ Coin_, she is the descendent of President Alma Coin during the 3rd rebellion. She is sarcastic and manipulative and knows one thing- she's doomed. Of course the reapings were most likely rigged to select her. But part of her is determined to be District 13's first Quell victor, but coming from the District with the second lowest victor rate AND being 12 will make this very difficult for her.

**Chapter 3: The Glorious Games**

Everyone in the Capital just loves the Hunger Games. Those who don't like the idea of this amazing sport are outcasts in society. It's not that anyone truly cares about getting revenge hundreds of years later, it's more of a punishment- turned into a grand tradition.

I am at my friend Celia's house in the downtown portion of our grand city. My father Dominico Puerto is the stylist for the District 1 female tribute. I even sometimes get to meet the District 1 tributes. It is so interesting to actually know the tributes on TV.

Parties are my favorite occasion, especially the Hunger Games parties. I always take my friends to the chariot rides and interviews. Last summer on vacation we went to the 500th Hunger Games arena to get more excited for the Quell. This is my first Quell, as I'm 17 and I cannot wait.

"Star," motions over blue- haired Celia who is sitting by the large flat screen TV with Rosalie, Marta, and Rainia. I go over and sit by my best friends, the seal of District 1 has already flashed up on the monitor.

"It's your District, Star," Marta says as she nudges me with her pale blue fingers.

"Yeah," I answer excitingly. My dad being their stylist and all, my friends and I often joke about that also being my District. Plus I took tons of personality quizzes online that said if I wasn't from the Capital I'd be from 1.

Rosalie tossed back a strand off her blonde hair that is embedded with emeralds, "I can't wait for the Games to begin. Those are my favorite parts."

"I like the interviews it's great to get a solid idea on whom to route for. Of course, that'll change in the course of the Games." Rainia points out, Rainia has these large dew colored eyes and curly purple hair. With her prefect complexion, Rainia is definitely the prettiest of my friends.

I open my mouth to say something, but Marta motions for me to keep my mouth shut. The escort is nearing the girls' reaping ball and sticks her hand in.

I lean forewords in anticipation as the name of the girl tribute is called.

**AN: I will try to get the District 1 reapings up very soon. Bear with me if not today then tomorrow. And trust me this is an abnormally long chapter, though they will be longer than the prologues themselves. Once I get every last reserved spot in there will be a sort of an intermission list OR it could be tied into another chapter. See ya, read and review, and have a great day!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Here we are with the DISTRICT 1 REAPINGS YEAH! Thanks to the creators of Zarina, Jewel, and Aaliyah for their tributes. And to the creator of Aaliyah I made up a family for her because I like tying that stuff in. And to Zarina's creator I gave her family names. To the creator of Jewel, I gave a brother and sister. So there are no District 3 reservations so I'm not going to have a final call for that tribute. This is also my first priority for awhile and nearly all of my writing time will be spent on this. In the end I decided not to do the good- byes though they may be mentioned later on.**

**Current Reservations I need and when:**

**District 9 male (District 7 reapings)**

**District 10 3****rd**** Tribute (District 8 reapings)**

**District 11 male (District 9 reapings)**

**Chapter 4: District 1 Reapings**

_**Zarina Peterana (D1, 17)'s point of view.**_

You know my family, but you don't know me. I'm what you could call "easy to forget." You think the daughter of the mayor of the wealthiest District would be social, even a bit snobbish sometimes. But that is not me and it's never been me. Besides my father is not even around that much and I feel as if I barely know Zeal Peterana.

I stare down at the bow and arrow I am holding. I have trained all of my life just in case I was ever forced in. I don't want to go really because the Games are something I don't support. However, I could prove myself during them.

_Don't kid yourself Zarina, _I scold myself; _Pearl Jameson is the female tribute this year. Plus, Aaliyah Lessia is the 3__rd__ tribute. There is no way you will go this year. Besides next year there will be so many other better girls like that Verity Sparks to be the tribute next year._

Verity is one of those loud and rude people that I just can't bring myself to like. She is arguably one of the best girls my age in training. She goes on and on about how she will win the Games and give endless wealth to her poor family. On top of that, she demands sympathy for being so damn poor. Most people think that she in a nuisance, but are too afraid to say anything to her.

"Zarina, oh my God you'll never believe what just happened!" A voice called out from behind me. I spin around to see my friends Danyell and Tashe running swiftly towards me.

"What is it?" I ask my friends who have wide- eyed looks.

"You'll never believe it," says Tashe who is gasping for breath, "It's Pearl!"

"What's wrong with Pearl?" I say calmly in return. Due to the fact that I am more of a loner, I have rarely ever spoken to Pearl. Pearl is usually seen hanging out with rather stereotypical, meat-headed careers.

"She's seriously broken her leg while sparing with Hunter Louisberry. Supposedly it was really bad too; she almost snapped one of the bones in half. She won't be able to compete." Danyell quickly speaks; I can barely understand a word she is saying.

"So we don't know who the female tribute will be," I gasp, "Does anyone know?"

"Nope it's likely the reaped person will be forced into the Games," Danyell tells me.

I sigh. No one likes it when the designated volunteer is injured. Then whoever is reaped usually thrown into the arena. There cannot be another official volunteer, to be one you need to come out on top. If you don't, you are not supposed to volunteer.

"Too bad, I hope we don't get another mentally ill tribute like last time that happened." I tell my friends as I put the bow and arrow back at the slot in the archery station.

Everyone in District 1 remembers the last time a tribute was injured. It was when I was 5 and the male volunteer, Blade Twist, was wounded in some "accident" in which a jealous contender stabbed him through the arm. When reaping day came around a mentally ill boy was chosen. He was bludgeoned to death with a club by the girl from District 4 on the first day. She said it was to, "Put him out of his misery." Afterwards, District 1 was the laughingstock of Panem for years. Districts 2 and 4 have never let us get over the shame.

My friends and I walk towards my large house. We wave good- bye and I tell them that I'll see them at the reapings. I walk in the house to find my dad sitting on the dining room table pouring over the Treaty or Treason.

"Hi dad," I whisper walking in.

"Oh," he looks up from the papers, "Hi Zarina." My father looks back at the papers. He looks as if he is savoring every word. How much of that is even true? It is the same old speech every year, and only the volunteers ever bother to look like they're actually listening.

I walk up the stairs humming a tune that is currently popular. When you hear it a lot of the time, any tune can come out of your lips no matter what you think of it.

"Hey watch out," My brother says as I accidently bump into him.

I stop dead in my tracks and look up at my 19- year old brother. "Sorry about that Hudson." I tell him. My brother is one of my closest friends, not that we never fight.

"It's fine just heading downstairs anyway. You should get ready; Mom is frantic upstairs like she always is on _every _reaping. I feel bad for you, not because you're eligible. But because you've got to wear whatever she says to." Hudson tells me, in response I giggle.

"It's not terribly bad though. Odds are that no one will see me on TV." I don't have the heart to tell him about Pearl or anyone in my family for that matter. Then again the daughter of Mayor Peterana reaped? Impossible, that never happens.

When I am upstairs I see my mother laying out a dress on my bed. Its silky blue fabric really stands out against the quilt. I pick up my grandmother's golden wedding ring strung on a thin necklace.

My Grandmother Astra died only 2 months ago and the scars of her death still impact my family. She was old, especially for a District citizen, Dad told us it was probably coming since life expectancies (even in the career Districts) are not that high.

If I am ever reaped, which I won't be, I will take this into the Games with me. I will wear it around my neck as I lurk around waiting for tributes. Wouldn't I have to join the career pack? I'm not like most of its members you see on TV though.

"Zarina," says my mother, "Actually look like you're paying attention to the treaty this year alright. It would be a major embarrassment to my- our family if you did so. And Zarina darling it would also be an embarrassment if you had no makeup."

I smile; my mother is obsessed with how things ought to looks. She is a prime example of the outlooks a good majority of people in District 1 have- looks are everything. It makes since we make jewelry and makeup.

I head to the bathroom and get dressed hastily. I put a light amount of makeup on; I do not want to be noticeable. Or does looking natural make you noticeable? I am not sure.

"Zarina, Velventina we need to get going." I hear the voice of my dad calling my mother and myself down. I place the blush back where it should go and hurry downstairs and grab a pair of shoes.

"You both look wonderful." My father kisses my forehead and my mother on the lips. When I was younger I found that weird, but I pretty much am accustomed to it now.

My family and I walk out of our door and into the town square. There are streamers and balloons set up, it might as well be parcel day. Our escort is testing the microphone and the three glass balls are rolling with names of the tributes.

I wave good bye to Mom, Dad, and Hudson. Soon after Danyell and Tashe arrive and come to where I am standing. Danyell is wearing her brown hair in a bun and has a golden color dress. Tashe on the other hand has her blonde hair hanging down and is wearing a strapless olive green dress. We walk to the 17- year old section where most of the teens our age are already talking. I know many from school and around the District, but we've never really talked.

Then my dad comes up and begins to read the Treaty of Treason. I don't imagine this is broadcasted in the Capital. After all who would want to watch the same old speech 13 times over and over again?

"That battle concluded the Dark Days with the destruction of the 13th District. As a punishment the Capital established the Hunger Games." The speech has been revised over the years to include about the second rebellion.

"And the Capital shall have rule over the noblest country of Panem forevermore. Now we shall draw our three tributes. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever _in your favor."

Our escort, blue- haired Twilla Sparkle is sane as far as the escorts go. I mean she isn't one of the wild escorts they curse the lower District with. Plus she is noted to be "skilled" as she has escorted tons of victors in her career, well only 4 from District 1, which is a pretty big number as far as victors.

"Good Morning District 1, are YOU READY TO DRAW THE TRIBUTES FOR THIS YEARS' HUNGER GAMES!" Everyone goes wild and the District becomes a whirlwind of hooting, hollering, and clapping.

"Now for our female tribute," Twilla approached the pink- tinted glass ball and pulled out a slip. I hoped it wasn't some poor 12 year old or another crippled kid. No one in the District is willing to bear the shame of volunteering when it wasn't their year.

"Zarina Peterana." What? What? WHAT?

_Don't freak out, keep your cool. Stand up straight that's better. _My thoughts as I reach the stage tell myself to walk and stay collective. I remain stoic after the initial shock of hearing my name.

I sigh as I see the horrified faces of my family. I glance at my friends who are shifting where they are. Of course they won't volunteer! They will be shamed for the rest of their lives even if they do return.

The escort approaches the boys reaping ball, "Now for the boy tribute-." However, Twilla is cut off by a scream of "I VOLUNTEER!"

_**Jewel Mylar (D1, 17)'s Point of View**_

Reaping day is always the best time of year. And this year I have won the spot of the male tribute. Perfect now to just make sure I look okay.

"Jewel," I hear a small voice pop up. I turn around to see little 5- year old Minty walking towards us. Minty is the youngest in my family and is already learning how to throw knives and handle a sword.

"What now Minty you're ruining my outfit!" I groan pushing my black hair out of my face.

"Mother says you need to come downstairs, family meeting. Father is kind of twitchy too." Minty tells me as I look loser into the mirror.

"_Why _is he so scared for me to volunteer? Just because our next door neighbor lost their daughter a few years ago doesn't mean I will die. Of course I will win and anyone who thinks otherwise is kidding themselves." I roll my eyes while speaking and Minty shrugs.

"Look Minty you need to leave before I stab you with this brush."

"Where would you stab me?"

"I dunno the heart?"

Minty is unfazed and I grab her tightly on the shoulders. "You need to leave now. I need to finish getting ready."

"I think you look fine."

I give a huff of frustration and push my sister aside. I presume running the brush through my hair. Stupid sisters, if she was another competitor in the Hunger Games she'd be dead. I hope I don't get any annoying career allies.

I am the first in my family to go in the Games. My parents are fashion designers and make many clothes for important Capitol officials. There are 3 of us kids. I am the second oldest as my brother, Teal, was a coward who didn't volunteer when he was supposed to. He was disowned and I have no intention of figuring out what happened to him.

I looked at my hands and I knew that I couldn't wait to get my hands on some pathetic younger tribute. Or maybe an older, bigger prize that would give the Capital a grudging respect of me.

I finish straitening my hair out, not perfect enough. It has got to be perfect for me to wear it to my reapings. I fix it again and hear my mother calling my name.

"Coming," I shout out grabbing my diamond- choker necklace, a token of how rich I am.

When I walk down stairs I see Minty with my parents. Minty is looking cross as if she was explaining how she tried to get me downstairs.

My parents are not really the loving sort. They pretty much leave Minty, myself, and in the past Teal to ourselves. Sometimes that is fine, but sometimes it fells weird.

My mother looks at me, "You will do fine I know it. Make us proud, bring back honor and glory to us and District 1." _And to myself, _I silently add.

Father has stopped the alleged "twitching" and now remains calm. "Jewel I was nervous at first, but your mother and Minty convinced me that you in fact will be a victor."

"He even threatened to kill me!" Minty pipes up and I smile and give a slight laugh.

"Now I believe Moonbeam is supposed to come soon and you should walk to the reapings together." Father supplies, I nod knowing what I have in store for ugly old Moonbeam. Moonbeam has been my girlfriend for the past 3 months, but I see way too many of her flaws now.

"Alright just one more check at my complexion upstairs," I say and my mother places her hand on my shoulder.

"Jewel you look fine."

I want to scream out, "FINE ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH I WANT PERFECT!" But I refrain from doing that since it wouldn't be proper enough. Good thing I have my pocket mirror.

Fifteen minutes later I see Moonbeam walking up the driveway. I snort as I see how imperfect I now know she is. Her blonde hair is too curly and her face has far too many freckles. Also, her left eye is a little lighter than her dark right one. Plus she had this gigantic zit on her neck. Even though it has deflated, zits are definitely a turn- off.

I walk outside to great her and she attempts to envelope me in a hug. I step back and stick my arms out, palms upwards. She jumps back obviously startled.

"What's wrong Jewel. I have tried for months to be your girlfriend and now I am. Don't you _want _me to kiss you?" Moon is taken aback as I shake my head no in a light manner as to not ruin my hair.

"Look Moonbeam darling I am sorry to tell you this. But I cannot date you anymore."

Moonbeam's jaw drops open, "What do you mean we can't. I'm almost the girlfriend of a _victor_ for crying out loud!"

"Moon," I tell her sweetly grabbing her jaw. "Listen you are not what I am looking for."

"Shell was right; no girl is what you are looking for. Just when I thought maybe this would work you go and dump me like all of the others? I tried to be nice and I tried to ignore the fact your only friends seem to be a gaggle of girls following you everywhere." Tears are welling in my girlfriend's eyes.

"It's not my fault I just recognized that my opinions have changed."

"Then what are you looking for?"

"Perfection and you, Moonbeam Ryder, are not perfect at all."

"Of course I'm not perfect! No damn person in the damned country is! Not my type, my ass, you're just a player. Jewel Mylar I hope you die in these Games."

"Honey that's not what this is."

Moon flicks around and punches me. My hair fluffs up, oh crap my perfect hair! "We are so over!"

"Last time I thought about it I wasn't the one to be dumped."

"Well you god damned are the one to be frickin DUMPED!" Moon screeches at me.

I look at her. I am still playing the gentleman. She is the one swearing and over reacting. Moonbeam stomps off in a furious frenzy. Oh well one less girl that will ever want me. Until I find a perfect girl I will have to be like this.

I shrug and decide to walk to the square by myself. The weird thing is that most of the boys at the training center hate me. I pull out my pocket mirror and begin to redo my poor hair. Why would those other teens hate me? Seriously what isn't there to love about Jewel Mylar, this year's victor?

I walk into the 17- year old section and remain quite while everyone else is conversing. I peer over into the 18- year old section and see the designated girl tribute, Pearl, has broken her leg. Oh well that means one less serious competitor to seriously fret about.

The escort bounces up on stage after the boring old speech is read out. She puts her hand into the girls' ball and pulls out a manila- colored slip of paper. "Zarina Peterana," she reads. A girl my age, which I know is the daughter of the mayor.

At first Zarina expresses the deadly shocked expression. Careers should never express that when they hear their name called. No one for that matter, the other Districts can and will pinpoint that as a potential weakness.

Before I know it our silver- eyed escort has approached the boys' reaping ball. This is my chance. I fix my sleek hair one last time and raise my hand.

"I VOLUNTEER!" I scream running up through my section of age. I tell the escort my name and I see Moonbeam standing with a smirk. I feel the urge to flip my middle finger towards my ex, but decide that that wouldn't be a good thing to do at all.

_**Aaliyah Lessia (D1, 15)'s Point of View**_

Finally, the day is here. This is MY reaping day, MY Hunger Games, and MY year to win. Who cares that I am almost 15? I am obviously better than most of the older kids at the training center.

Those are my thoughts as I am standing in front of the grimy old mirror. My pink eyes stare back at me through the mirror. My eyes are not naturally that way, but I have them thanks to eye coloring I volunteered to sample for in the factory. My blue hair is thanks to my permanent hair dye, when they can get it tons of kids in District 1 dye their hair and eyes. We may not be as extravagant as the Capital, but we do know a thing or two about fashion.

Since my family is poor, I had to steal my permanent dye. Really it wasn't that hard walking out of the store with it laughing about how easy it was. Really a minor crime is good practice for the big show, the Hunger Games where you have to kill and steal and fight.

I cannot wait to fight most of all; I want to see the blood squirting out of the dying tribute's body. I want to witness their eyes rolling backwards in their head one last time. I want to hear their cannon boom, knowing that it's my doing. I want to be the VICTOR!

My dress is an old hand- me down from my elder sister Viola. She never was chosen for the Games and is 20 now. She still lives with us and my parents are planning to marry her off to produce more potential tributes. That's how life works in the poor parts of District 1, the ones no one wants you to hear about.

There are many of us Lessia kids. Since my parents didn't qualify the goal is to produce more tributes. Thankfully I won't fall into that hole of having generation after generation only to not have your children sent to become victors. Viola is the eldest, there is Marcus who is 19 and is married to a girl named Autumn so we rarely get to see him, Keisha is 18, Sweetie is 17, then there is me, Ramen is 13, Katia is 11, Purity is 9, and Jackson is 6.

I am cutting it dangerously close to the time when my family and I finally decide to leave our home. We are middle class in the District, which is actually quite common in District 1.

My dress is a strapless dark crimson gown. It is the color of blood, the blood of my enemies that will splatter across my face when I fight. I am about to burst with the excitement of finally fulfilling my destiny.

This was truly the best time of the year, even better than summer when District 1's usually mild and rainy climate is hot. Yes hot weather is the best because you can get a tan by lying on the top of the buildings, far above the factory smoke that threatens to choke you.

On the way to the square my best friend Carmel motions over to us. I leave the company of my family and head to her.

"Hi Carmel," I greet, "I cannot wait to fight in the Games."

Carmel similes, "You are so very lucky to go. It'll be fantastic and a Quell year at that! Everyone in the District will be so happy."

"Thrilled is a better word," I say. We laugh and run to the square careful not to get any mud splatters on our best clothes.

"Oh yeah I mean to give you this," Carmel tells me as we walk into the 15- year old section. She puts something small in my hands and shut my eyes tightly.

"You can open them you know," Carmel giggles as I do my jaw drops. In my hand is a pearl bracelet. The transparent colored charms have swirls all over them.

"Wow thanks this is the best." I tell her with a wide grin.

Everyone in the section chats until the dumb speech has been finished. It gets old watching the same speech over and over again every single year.

The girl tribute is called. Instead of the female volunteer who I have no idea why wouldn't volunteer. Oh well one less serious competitor, though I have seen the girl- Zarina- around the training center before. Still, no threats to what will be my ruthless strategy for the Games.

The boy who is supposed to volunteer, Jewel Mylar, does. I can hear the District girls swoon as they see him walking up. But his looks don't affect me, not at all.

Our escort, Twillie, or something, pumps her fist into the air, "And now for our very special 3rd TRIBTUE!" That's me, I beam knowing no one can see me.

The escort flips her blue hair that is worn in a wavy bob style. She carefully selects the slip and opens it up. "Alright and the luck girl tribute is Thornilda Hayes."

Thornilda doesn't even bother to go out of the crowd. Because I am running foreword, the wind rustling my hair, everyone knows that I am going to volunteer.

"Wait I volunteer!" I cry out raising my hand up high in the air. "Aaliyah Lessia ma'am, I volunteer myself to be this year's tribute."

"Okay then. Ladies and Gentleman I present to you Zarina Peterana, Jewel Mylar, and Aaliyah Lessia the tributes from District 1 in the 525th Hunger Games!" Everyone claps loudly and I cast a vicious look at the camera hoping the see me.

The peacekeepers come up to my and grab me by the arms. "Wait," I say. "You don't have to guide me there I got this." And I walk with my head held high the Justice Building.

**AN: I had to cut Aaliyah's point of view short there. 4,000 words is way beyond what I EVER do. Sorry if the grammar was worse than usual, the longer the chapter the more trouble I have with editing. I try to do one point of view a day so the updates should take about 3 days. Tell me if it was too long I just had a lot to write for these tributes and many ideas. Read and review this in 4 chapters has almost surpassed my greatest number of reviews on my story Tragedy and Triumph. Oh and I would ask you to read my other stories, but that would be begging. But you should still read them anyways. **


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I most certainly do not own the Hunger Games or any related content. _

**AN: Thanks to the creators of Canaletto, Pace, and Rhine. I enjoyed writing these tributes and I hope you enjoy reading this. If you don't think I did your character justice could you please give me some tips? I also had to give Canaletto more of a personality as not much was given. I am attempting to get the reapings done as soon as I can. No District 4 reservations so the 3 remaining reservations probably have at least until late next month to get them me. I guess I could say that my cat helped A.K.A chewed the side of the monitor while I tried to see what I was typing. Thank auto save for this chapter or it would've been lost since someone turned the computer off (last time this happened I didn't get one bit saved). Also, please continue to read and follow this piece of writing. I want to know your opinions on your and your characters' progress. And if you don't have a tribute feel free to read and review anyways. Plus please tell me your opinions on the tributes, I love the feedback already. Okay I am not completely biased, but if everyone hates a tribute they probably won't win. That saying if I dislike a tribute I may enjoy writing them. Every once in awhile this will increase their lifespan, but it may just come down to whose death scene I can bear to write first. This has happened to me on other stories and when it does I go long spaces of time with no updates.**

**Chapter 5: District 2 Reapings**

_**Pace Gibson (D2, 15)'s Point of View**_

Quickly my oldest brother darts through the woods. He is holding the shark tooth necklace (don't ask how we get shark teeth in District 2, it's rather complicated) and is waiting for the District 6 boy to fall into his trap.

The District 6 boy is sitting in his hollow, where he has stayed the whole Games. He is clever and was able to sneak away enough food from the initial bloodbath and the Final 9 feast to last him this long. It begins to rain and the boy tilts his head back, letting the water trickle down his throat.

"I am going to die. So to my family and Savannah, I love you. To my friends, thanks for being there and to anyone else thank you for supporting me. This is truly the worst time to die in the Hunger Games and I am sad to go, but I just can't do it. I would've rather died in the bloodbath than now."

The boy marches away like he is walking to his ultimate doom. He carries with him a small, but sharp knife. He left his pack and the remainder of his food back at his campsite.

My brother eventually spots him and holds the rope, ready to snap the trap when the boy walks over it. He eventually does and no sound is made as he is hoisted into the air, dangling from a sturdy tree branch by one leg.

My brother, Helix, whips out of the bushes and the boy whimpers in fear at the sight of the sharp metal spikes on the club. Helix approaches District 6 and whacks his legs with the mace. Blood splatters on the ground, but these are not injuries that will kill.

"So District 6, Griffon right?" Griffon nods weakly shutting his eyes tight.

"Seems you fell for my trap…"

Griffon interrupts him with a loud scream, "It was on purpose okay! Just kill me and get it ******* over with." The tape recording censors the swear word that comes from the dangling boy's mouth.

"But that would ruin the Hunger Games spirit," a smash below the boy's heart. "I should give them one last ******* show to enjoy." The recording censor beeps can get quite annoying. The Games are not that kid friendly to begin with, so why bother trying?

Griffon starts tearing up as he winces in his pain, "Please just get it over with, and make it quick! You can make it bloody, but please make it quick!"

My older brother notices for the first time of the knife in Griffon's hand. He takes it out; the boy doesn't even try struggling.

"I purposely," Griffon gulps shaking, "Fell into that trap." You can tell that he is lying and Helix points that out."

"Your pleas are getting annoying. You'll get whatever kind of death I choose. What should I do with you? I yes I learned a little trick while at the Capital," Helix plies Griffon's mouth open and yanks out his tongue. Meanwhile Griffon is shaking and sweating like mad. He tries to scream, but can't because his knife has severed his tongue off. Griffon shuts his mouth tightly, but a few seconds later figures out that he has to keep it open, or blood will clog his mouth.

"Now that you can't talk," Helix lifts up the club as Griffon stares wide- eyed. "Let's have some fun."

Helix then cuts the boy down using a knife. Griffon falls to the floor landing sideways. _Crack! _The boy's spine had been snapped as the mace was waiting for the boy, who was very bloody, to land. Griffon couldn't move, he couldn't struggle, and the mace came crashing down on his head. _BOOM! _The cannon fires as chunks of his head fly all around.

In that moment Helix comes into the room seeing me watch the television. My elder brother won the 520th Hunger Games at the age of 18- he is now 23.

"What's up?" He asks sitting down.

"Oh, since it is reaping day I thought I'd catch up on the more recent final 2 showdowns. After all I am volunteering this year." I tell him he nods; he probably knew that it was his after all. Victors are strange like that. They always seem to know when you are watching their Games.

"That is a good thing. You can never watch too many old tapings of the Games. Tributes from some Districts seem to repeat tactics. Like the landmine gig a lot of 3's attempt to pull off. None of them ever have though." Helix says I nod; my brothers are full of advice.

"I was going to watch Westly's final 3 next," I tell them getting out the next disc.

"Maybe that wouldn't be a good idea."

"Why?"

"You know how sensitive Westly is about his Games, especially the final 3 showdown."

"I don't understand that. His Games were really incredible, how they were all in the volcano. It was really cool how he shoved the girls from 5 and 11 into it at the end. Then we was the victor of the 521st Hunger Games, I thought it was pretty cool." I tell him reaching for the recording. My house has a room with a TV and couch filled with past tapings of Games. I am expected to spend most of my time either in the training center or up here watching the tapes. It isn't that bad, you get used to it after awhile. Besides I am going to win the Hunger Games and I should be prepared.

Helix sits down on the couch, "Well sometimes victors can be a little touchy about what happened during their Games. You know Old Man Legs down the street?"

"Yeah," I say perking up, "All of the kids seem to be afraid of him. He won a long time ago wasn't it like the 459th or something?"

Helix shrugs, "I think. But anyways after the Games he realized just what he had become. If you watch those recordings you see that he was crazy in the arena. Well he never regained that sanity and well went completely strange."

"Well I know I won't be like that. Besides I am more of a person than anyone else in the Games."

"Unless they're bigger or stronger than you are because I can see how freaked out you are with James."

I shake my head quickly, "I'm not afraid of him." Mostly it's a lie because it is kind of James's fault I am afraid of larger competitors than myself. Though I never will admit that I am, I need to look invincible and tough.

Helix shrugs it off. "I'm going downstairs you better be ready or Dad will freak."

I nod and walk out of the room and to my bedroom two floors over. I look in the mirror and understand why I need to volunteer. I am worthy of my parents attention. I _can _be as great as my brothers.

Is it worth the challenge to go? Absolutely, I cannot doubt the Games after training all of my life. I just cannot be the sister of two victors all of my life. James would also never let me go about it.

I have trained with James almost all of my life. He is bigger, and much tougher than I am. I wonder why he didn't get either of his eligible spots this year. We joke around with each other, so I wouldn't really call us foes. More like rivals because I can never admit that he has helped me in training- but only a little.

I pull my short- sleeved orange dress over my body. I comb out my curly dark blonde hair and apply a little make- up on my face. It is a good outfit, one fit for this year's victor.

I walk downstairs and pass my parents who are talking about my brothers, _again. _Having victor sons is all they ever seem to think, talk, or even care in the slightest about. I have never gotten much of this treatment- and yet I will be the 3rd victor in my family.

The tiger shark tooth necklace fits around my neck perfectly. I believe that it will grant me good luck in the arena, at least it better since I'll need all of the luck I can get.

I start walking towards the town square, my parents don't notice much. I am invisible in their eyes most of the time. Do they believe that I will come back, or do they think I will surely fail? They know I can win and I think they know I will.

I see James as I walk on the brick street. He calls me over and I gulp, honestly words don't describe James. He is one of those people you just can't categorize. I have never understood all that in my life. But it didn't matter; I do not really need to understand all that to be a Hunger Games victor.

"Hey Pace," James says.

"Hi," I tell him already walking ahead towards the Justice Building.

"So you're volunteering?"

"Duh, of course I am. You don't get chosen and not volunteer."

"Sure then, so are you going to freak out the first buff dude you collide into." He smirks and I shrug my shoulders trying to let it go.

"Yeah and when you go in a few years from now I bet you'll cringe at the first person like me. Or maybe you'll just fill their head with crap." It is said in a joking manner, like all of our "arguments." Though the fact that he could rip me to shreds haunts me even though I am pretty sure he won't. But still James could, and anyone like him could easily kill me in a fight. Better to attempt to stay clear of them, other than when we will have to be allies.

"Nah but we'll probably both win. District 2 is unbeatable."

"You _still _think that after how many years of being alive?"

"Thinking positive is usually a good thing. Besides we're supposed to be undefeatable warriors, so why not think like it?"

"I'm not exactly sure."

We enter the 15-year old section and make sure we get seats towards the front. Sure in the front you have to pretend to listen to the speech, but you're coast is clear for volunteering.

Our escort is named Rainia Hail. She has blue skin that glows both in the light and the dark, making her look like an alien. Her eyes are the color of chestnut and she wears the weirdest clothes ever invented. She introduces everyone to the reapings and all of the old traditional stuff nobody really cares about.

"Now let's draw the name of our girl tribute shall we?" The blue woman nears the ball. However, I am already charging at high speed up to the stage. Some others are trying, idiots, but I am here first!

I look into the large sea of people and spy my parents. They have proud look on their faces, finally! Yes this is the best day ever!

_**Sai "Canaletto" Ring (D2, 16)'s Point of View**_

When my name was called to be the boy tribute in this year's Games my thoughts were pure joy. I had finally won the privilege after a lifetime of training to volunteer. I heard the groans of the 18- year olds, and frankly didn't care.

Now I am in the training center getting some last minute swings of a sword done. Many tributes spend time with their families and get ready before their reaping day, while others come here and train, like me. Sure we get 3 whole days of practice, but why not add a fourth and a lifetime of training ruthlessly? That is the traditional career viewpoint, besides I really don't care about spending quality time with my family.

The Ring family is sort of poor; my parents have extremely rocky jobs. It's to be expected really, my dad being a drunk and my mom being emotionally unstable. I am the only child in my family; there is nothing to fight for but myself. And after all isn't that the best reason to fight in the Hunger Games.

Looking into the silver blade I can see my pale skin. I flip back my brown- black hair revealing my blue- green eyes. I twist the deadly blade in my hands, it is real and I could kill with it right now if I desired. No fake weapons are used in career training, only if you are a wimp. These wimpy careers never even make it close to volunteering for the Games. It takes dedication, and I have got plenty of it.

You'd have to be a fool not to appreciate the training a career goes through. It's brutal, even more so in 2- we are the Capitol's favorites and can get away with anything. After all we alone are faithful to them, not 1 or 4, not 7 a recent addition to the careers, and especially not 12 or 13. I

Even though I am in my reaping clothes, I can still train anyway. Now I highly doubt we'll be wearing suits and dresses in the arena, but you need to be prepared for any twists in the Games. Yes they are a Games- a Game of life or death, living Hell for those who cannot make it.

"Hey Sai want to come over and watch the District 1 reapings before we all head down to the square?" A mousy- haired teen in my grade, Andrew Walters, motions over to me.

"What did you just call me?" I snap walking over to him. I grab his small neck in my strong fists and squeeze. His face begins to turn red, hopelessly flailing around; I stare at him and purse my lips tightly together.

"Sorry," he croaks helplessly. His face starts to turn plum, a good color nonetheless. I stare at him and he trashes his head into my pointed jaw. With his free hand he turns to yank my long hair.

Stumbling backwards, I manage to swivel around like a snake and throw a good punch, knocking him over onto the ground. The boy is crumpled in a heap gasping for air

I can barely make out the words that escape his lips, "I get it Canaletto." I give him a haunting grin and turn away from him heading to the couches. He deserved it, I could've killed him, but that would mean being hung even before I got into the Games.

"That was a good one," my best friend Stew said giving me a high five. His insane parents named him Steward, so no one ever calls him that. Maybe the part of the reason we became friends was that we both have loony parents, and even worse names.

"He deserved it. If I was a victor I probably would have killed him. Only a nutcase would dare bring charges against a victor! But still I've got the Games to kill all I want, right?" My friends laugh and we barely notice the escort greeting the crowd.

Some girl name Zarina is chosen and no one volunteers. So she might be the designated tribute, but I doubt it. Odd though District 1 is usually filled with volunteers, the boy's name is Jewel and he volunteers. What a pretty boy ugh shame I will be forced to ally with someone like him. The 3rd tribute, Aaliyah, has blue hair and pink eyes- what? I mean where is she from the Capitol? I didn't even know District 1 had ACCESS to that kind of stuff. Then again, we are told only District 2 gets those privileges.

A supervisor coughs, noting that we are running late for the reapings. _Bullshit! _We take off running through the deserted streets of District 2 that are usually crowded this time of day. Shops are closed and no trains and quarry carts come from the still mountains.

My heart pounds in my chest. Out of the entire set of career Districts, the teens from two seem to ignore the chosen volunteer spots the most. It has become quite common over the years for someone to just stroll right up without being selected. And no one even can challenge or shame the person these days.

We head to the center where the whole District is anxiously awaiting this year's reapings. Even the peacekeepers have stopped taking attendance. This was very bad my moment was about to be ruined forever. Sure I still had 2 more years, but there was no guarantee I'd be chosen. And it was a Quell I'd be lucky if I didn't have at least a few competitors to get up on that damned stage.

As some girl named Pace volunteers I desperately push through the crowds. I shove over young children and adults alike- I need to get up to that stage now. I almost don't get through the sea of people when the volunteers have started to run up. Then I kick into overdrive.

Mustering all my strength I run for the nearest boy and shove his face into the ground. His neck snaps and I feel his heart stop beating. I will never be charged because mayhem has broken out.

Pace watches with awe in her eyes as she sees me leap onto the back of an about 15- year boy. I know she saw me start the fight and snap the neck of the boy. Blinking I remember who it is. Oh yes Andrew from earlier, I was going to kill him and now it's done- oh well.

I slug the boy who falls over with a bloodied nose and I charge up and practically yank the microphone from the glow-in- the dark escort's grip.

"Canaletto Ring- this year's male tribute from District 2," I gasp into the microphone. Pace is eyeing me oddly, scrutinizing my ever detail and being.

"That boy you just knocked over was James." Respect and fear blaze in her light green eyes as she speaks to me. She then goes off on a tangy that is barely audible, "He must have made the attempt to volunteer to protect me, but why?"

Whoever that James is certainly won't ever be able to tell Pace exactly why he was trying to reach the stage. "He'll live; it was just a broken nose that's all." Pace shrugs it off her eyes show nothing at all anymore.

The peacekeepers race forewords to stop the fight. I see a few lifting the body of Andrew whatever- his- last- name- was onto a cot. Some boys flee back to their sections while others are apprehended. Several more injured people are taken away. This James person struggles to regain his consciousness. Several more dead bodies are taken away, I count them. Six deaths in all, all to get the glorious spot in the Hunger Games- and it's pretty damn awesome that they were all caused by me.

_**Rhine Emmerson (D2, 17)'s Point of View**_

That bitch is using him, I know it. You can't pretend like I haven't seen here complaining that she deserved a larger present. Just because my dad happens to be a victor, we don't have to go showering arses like her with presents. Yes she is using him and more guys at that if I know correctly.

And that is why my skin burns in anger every time I have to lay eyes on Nola Patterson. I have seen her whining about how she should be rich from dating the son of a victor. I thought Crowe was a hell of a lot smarter than that. After all I know my 18- year old brother better than anyone. He has been my closest friend since my sister (Delphia) was born 8 years ago.

And she is here now before the reaping day expected to be with my family while we attempt to get ready. Whenever she is around I prefer to keep myself locked up in my bedroom. But since this is reaping day we have to be on the first floor _and _I have to be nice. As if!

It's Crowe's final reaping this year and my parents treat it as some big event. Even though he wasn't even selected as the volunteer my parents want him too. Odd though because I admit the guy who was selected was pretty scary looking.

Maybe it's a mixture of my already sour mood and that Nola is here that I decide to do something. I'm no technological genius (leave that to District 3), but I think I can tamper with the air conditioning without killing myself.

Summers in District 2 are bloody hot and dry. However, Nola despises the cold so when she is over the heat has to go on full blast. I want to show her not to mess with my brother, or anyone I happen to like (which isn't that many people making the fact worse). Turning the air conditioning on frigid is probably the least harmful thing I can do. I just want to make her miserable, to get a good laugh, and for Crowe to come to his senses.

Before the District 1 reapings air I excuse myself to head to the bathroom. However, I skip the bathroom and walk into the garage instead, grabbing a silver wrench and screw driver. I then turn to the air conditioning unit which is hooked up right by the garage's door. One loud bang and I'm surely busted.

I had planned this I was ready. I keep telling myself this as I twist the screw driver around allowing me to push open the door. I hear footsteps and suspect it is my dad. I don't care if his opinion of me is tarnished.

My dad wanted to make me perfect from a young age. He wanted me to get a 100% on every test I'd ever take. But I couldn't and these facts lead to many fights. Honestly, I don't even **care **much about him anymore. I've completely ignored the last 5 Father's Days.

I open the door and cough as the dust swirls around me. Stupid dust, stupid heat, but this will be worth it. Quietly I yank the lever and pull the small black arrow to the end of the blue section of the graph. Cool breezes start to project.

I then dash out of there after putting the tools back in their places. I head to the bathroom and flush the toilet for some extra effect. I breathe deeply and head back to the family room. The District 1 escort is already happily greeting everyone in the room.

"What took you so long?" My father snaps as me as I sit on the floor besides Delphia.

"I just went, um, poop." The words fly swiftly out of my mouth and Delphia giggles. I see Nola roll her brown eyes and I do so right back at her.

Nola sits back in the chair; I am surveying her even more. While the stupid treaty is read she starts to shiver. I make no indication I know anything. Delphia requests a blanket; Mom goes and gets it for her.

"I guess I am supposed to volunteer," my brother offers.

Dad nods lowering his small spectacles, "Yes you are supposed to volunteer. I don't care that you were not designated to do so."

"You'll win," I supply- Nola does the same after me. I want to get up and slap her silly right now. I want to chase her away and never see her again. Since I hang out mostly with my brother's friends, I see too much of her.

"It is getting cold. Is the heat on?" Nola asks and my dad slowly nods his head as a girl named Zarina is chosen to participate in the Hunger Games.

I flip back my brown hair that has slight waves in it. Looking at Nola I twiddle my thumbs waiting.

"Go and check Crowe," she snaps at my brother.

"Fine," he says getting up and I stop him.

"Wow sis what's up with you?" He asks me walking back a bit.

"I like the temperature it's staying. Besides we don't have long until we leave for the reapings. Just watch the TV, Nola can deal with it." I think Crowe is taken aback by my speech because he sits down in the chair.

Nola starts moaning about the temperature. Delphia looks pissed and purposely leaves to get earplugs. Mom eventually leaves the room to get ready for the reapings and Dad watches the TV. Some sissy boy named Jewel volunteers and another tougher looking girl also volunteers.

I enjoy Nola's whining and pestering- every moment of it. She sees my smile that I let escape and jumps up from her chair.

"You were the one who tampered with the air conditioning unit?" She points at me and all eyes in the room are on me.

"What me?" I point to myself shaking my head, "Seriously it was the corn cob in the pantry that did it."

The bit of sarcasm closes the deal that it was, in fact, me who turned on the stupid air conditioning.

"Why did you do this? Rhine you know better. You're brother's girlfriend over and all, I'm ashamed." Scolds my dad I shake my head, not looking into his stern eyes.

"I don't care dad as far as I am concerned I am not your daughter." I shake my head and I hear Delphia draw back a long gasp. Crowe remains ever silent not willing to say anything.

I walk out of the house in my reaping clothes. I never want to go back there, but I know I must. After the reapings there will be a confrontation and Crowe won't be there to stick up for me.

But I still don't regret I can't. To say I Rhine Emmerson could feel remorse would be a horrid mistake. What will I do, tears line my blue eyes- I wipe them away. Why were the tears there I wasn't sad? But maybe I was sad that Crowe could very well die in the Games.

I am one of the first to arrive in the square. Kicking aside pebbles I trod to the 17- year old section. I have no friends my age; none of them are really worth my time. Some are meat-heads, others are dull, and I just don't seem to fit in with them.

I wonder how the chosen volunteer will react to Crowe. I think he is 16, so he has a few more years I guess. The girl lives in Victor's Village also; Pace I believe her name is. I think the boy's name is Canaletto; he often beats up on kids for calling him his real name.

The 3rd tribute volunteer is an 18- year old boy named Spike Asher. He is brutal and is known to strangle stray animals on the streets for practice. I'm glad that there is now way I'll be facing him in the arena. Of course I could definitely beat him, but he is damn creepy.

Later Pace volunteers and heads up to the stage. I remain in my section bored to death as I attempt to wait this out. Then I will have to face my family, oh joy.

Then I hear punching and screaming and I know a fight has broken out. I snap back into attention and see Canaletto jump onto a short boy's back and snap his neck. I laugh as more boys join in the fight- this was entertaining. I view Spike leap into the fight, he is clobbered by Crowe and falls to the ground unmoving.

I stop laughing, there's my brother and he's in trouble. I peer out having more sense than to join in. Canaletto breaks another boy's nose and Pace draws in a long gasp. I see my brother racing to catch up.

"Crowe watch out!" I scream to him as a muscular 17- year old boy pushes him over and clobbers his head with a rock. His blood is all over the ground.

"NO!" I shriek plummeting through my section. I come to my brother's side and give the attacker a good punch to the throat. He is knocked over. The Peacekeepers are coming to break the fight up as Canaletto gives his name. But it is too late, Crowe Emmerson is dead.

Biting my lip I head back to the section trying to avoid tears. I could not let myself cry. I barely hear my name called by the escort for the 3rd tribute. No one volunteers as I move up.

They are too scared to volunteer hah! Too afraid I'll clobber them and I would each and every one of them for one reason. The boy who started the fight is standing up with me shaking my hand. Yes the boy who might as well have caused Crowe's death.

I would kill him. And I would also enjoy every second of it.

**Keep an eye out for our next reaping stop DISTRICT 3! **

**Yes I know it is sad and random why I killed Crowe. I wanted this to happen and he was the best candidate for it. **

**Don't you just want to stab Nola with a spork lol. **


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I had computer issues last time which delayed my normal updating skills. The computer I type on is very fickle and HATES connecting to the internet plus my family needs a new wireless outer (I just realized Wiress is derived from Wireless epic find that everyone else probably already knew). Thanks to the creators of Amy and Wolf, though counting on the fact Mario was my creation I can't really thank anyone it would be a little too narcissistic. Mario is a bloodbath tribute, their point of views will be considerably smaller because I honestly won't bother much with them. I think I have only one bloodbath tribute in an alliance (of course he dies in the bloodbath, but it'll make sense later on). All I planned for them was the paragraphs you read previously so I had a bit of a hard time writing my own creation. That's what I get for not planning bloodbaths enough. This chapter is shorter than the other two because the chapters containing the bloodbath tributes will always be a teensy bit shorter. I try to write on average about 1,500 words per tribute (don't count me on that sometimes I write more sometimes less).**

**Chapter 7: District 3 Reapings**

_**Amelia "Amy" Rivers (17, D3)'s Point of View**_

Maybe it's because they killed Alyss that I hate reaping day so much. Maybe it's the thought of 23 bodies heading home in wooden boxes; often 2 belong to District 3. Alyss was brought home in a box and I've never forgiven the Capitol for that.

Alyss died 4 years ago in the 521st Hunger Games. She was too young, only 13. I remember that day so well because it was one of the worst days of my life. Alyss had been one of my few friends since I was little. On our second reaping day she was taken away. She said that she'd die, but I didn't believe her- I didn't want too!

Then in the bloodbath the worst happened. Her District partner ran off without her and she seemed lost without her supposed ally. Cursing him she ran for a pack and was stabbed in the head by the boy from District 1. She crumpled onto the hard ground, gasping for breath and later died. That year was brutal- lava eruptions and plain bloodthirsty careers claimed a majority of our tributes. The next day our boy tribute was killed by the girl from District 11 who threw a knife towards him thinking it was a career, she then realized that it was only a 15-year old boy from District 3. His name was Stephano Bronte. In the end, the victor was Westly Griffon from District 2. He won consecutive years with his brother.

The worst part was the memory of her sightless, still body. Of her glazed- over soft eyes that could never decide between gray and blue. Her funeral was pretty bad too. It was in the evening in the cemetery. All I could think about were the ghosts and mutts probably lurking in the shadows. With terrifying claws that are sharp as knives these mutts could be a terror. No, they ARE terrors not WOULD be.

I don't bother watching the reapings. I don't care who is chosen, even if the TV has to be on. I'm perfectly content to wait it out in the closet where no one can tell I'm not watching.

I pour the raspberry- colored liquid into the glass. It bubbled and remained still, okay I am not going to be exploded today, and I know what I am doing. I am working on the "holiday" just for the sake of getting this chemical right. If it can be perfected we can take the arsenic out of contaminated food, but only arsenic. It will kill any other thing it touches, including human lives. At least I think it could, the strontium and dysprosium is definitely not good for humans.

The solution bubbles on the portable stove. I hope we don't have to use too much electricity waste from this. I monitor my candle, not going to let the flame go out. Crap! The solution spills onto the termite- eaten floor as I elbow it by accident.

A gray rodent comes to the liquid as I jump back in a haste to save my stuff. The factory owners will have my head if I ruin any of it. I work in a factory that makes chemicals to send to the electronic factories and District 5's mutt labs. My whole family works there and it doesn't pay too terribly bad. I have been saving some of my wages all of my life so maybe I can afford to go to a Capitol university. I don't like them, but it'll mean a better job opportunity I guess. I turn my focus to the rat that is slurping the chemical up.

"So does it taste like blue raspberry?" I ask half- heartedly as the mouse falls to the floor twitching like mad. Oh no I poisoned it! Back to the drawing board with the project, I take the now still body and put it in the solution, which I mop up. I place one of my bright orange toxic stickers on it. There are plenty of people in District 3 who would eat a dead carcass they did not know anything of the death of.

I smile remembering how I and my friends used to put the stickers EVERYWHERE, even on some people's shirts once. Then I was told never to do that again and it stopped just like my story notebook. I used to write tons of stories and wanted to be a published author. It was stupid; authors only ever come from the Capitol.

I hear footsteps in the hallway, which tells me everyone has left. I'm old enough to get to the reapings on my own. Hopefully I wouldn't be chosen to go. After this one more reaping and I am free from the terror of having to enter the Games myself.

Then I hear the sounds of the TV, it is the voice of Mayor Perkins. Shit, I am late! I have no time to change, still in my white coat and jeans. I charge outside of the apartment and jump into the elevator slamming the 1st floor button.

My heart beats wildly as I storm into the streets? What if my friends, Melody and Rory are chosen and I don't get to say good- bye? That would be horrific; I can't let that happen.

I see my parents and my 20-year old sister Jennifer conversing on the sidelines. Jennifer's husband, Carson Todd is also there, the two recently got married in the old District 3 style. I wave to them to let them know I have arrived.

Thank God the speech is so long. I have time to give the peacekeeper on duty my name and slip into the 17- year old section. I weave my way towards Melody and Rory and start talking to them in hushed whispers.

"Sorry I was so late; the chemical didn't turn out too well." I apologize, Melody nods pushing back her dark hair.

"It's fine," she tells me. Rory also nods.

I look at Rory. He has been one of my best friends for years, but it is hard not to help admiring him. He has sandy- blonde hair that neatly falls on his forehead. Does he love me back? That one of the things I truly want to know. Does he love me or does he think I'm ugly? He might with my red hair and green- blue eyes I don't think I am nearly as good looking as he.

"You missed the whole treaty. It's boring anyhow; I don't see why it is always read every year." Rory tells me.

"Yeah I totally agree," he grins at me.

Our escort leaps up onto the stage grinning broadly from tattooed lips. "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever _in your favor." What a stupid phrase, in the Games it is impossible to have the odds on anyone's favor come on! What are the tributes main characters of a book who have to win?

"Our lucky female tribute for the Quarter Quell is," he pulls out a manila slip from the bowl. "Amelia Rivers."

What me? Seriously, how can this be happening? I am motionless in pure shock. This can't be happening it's all a dream, no! My whole life gone snatched from me.

Melody grips my shoulders and gives me a nudge forewords, I begin to walk. "I'm so sorry," she apologizes.

She doesn't have to. Because from that moment on I am determined to come back home to District 3, I may not be a killer, but I now have an unstoppable drive.

_**Mario Lichen (12, D3)'s Point of View**_

Today is my first reaping. I am so scared; I can't sit still for one second. I never watched the Hunger Games; my parents sheltered me from all of the possible harm in the world. If I go in I will surely die. Who would kill me? Would I have to look my killer in the eye as I take my final breath? Calm down Mario you'll be okay. Nothing bad can happen to you.

I am sitting in the large hallway closet. It has no windows and has been my sister Cassie's and my sanctuary from watching the Games. Cassie is 10, 2 years younger than I am. At least she'll never be eligible to enter a Quell.

Our parents always thought that the Hunger Games were unsuitable for young children to be watching. So they broke the law and stowed us away whenever they came on the television. They told me to ignore the updates they wanted us to live in a world free from the fear of being chosen.

But even that has to end sometime. And my sheltered world ends today when I could very well be chosen to enter the 525th annual Hunger Games. Thousands of children have been killed over the Capitol's unyielding thirst for vengeance for crimes our ancestors committed.

The dark closet is the only place I can sit still. I am paralyzed in fear of the bloodcurdling screams on TV every year. Cassie and I often huddled together in a corner with a thin blanket laid over us. Sometimes we had a flashlight and could do our homework or play.

Cassie opens to the door to the closet. I look into her black eyes, the color of darkness and the night. "You need to come out Mario, the reapings will start soon." Her voice is solemn and she knows that she very well could lose me today.

My family is poor so I took tessarae, even though my name was supposed to be entered once, it is entered 10 times. Plus there are two opportunities for me to be sent to my untimely death.

It's simple; if I am reaped my world will come tumbling down around me. I can't win and if I did I would be tortured with the memories. My parents thought they were doing the right thing to shelter me like that, but in the end it hurt me.

I groan and life myself up. _Mario you have to walk, you have to get to the square, _I tell myself. How could I live through more of these days? How could I make it through knowing that I have my life on the line once a year?

We walk without saying a word to the square. When we get there my dad envelops me in a hug. Mamma then also hugs me. "I love you," she tells me.

"No matter what happens it'll be okay," Dad's words should assure me, but they don't.

After the Treaty is read I am twisting and turning my body. I can't make it surrounded by tons of nervous kids my age. The whole District is standing on edge hoping their loved ones can make it through this one reaping.

"Amelia Rivers," the escort, whose name is Carl Johnson, announces. I look over to the 17- year old section. A dark- skinned girl pushes another girl, probably Amelia forewords. She begins to shuffle up to the stage.

"Now for our lucky boy tribute," lucky as if! "Mario Lichen."

Oh no, no, no, no that's me! How could this be happening! I was only 12 I couldn't die, I couldn't! That's when I feel the salty tears come plummeting down my pale face.

I then begin to walk up, hiding my face from the cruel world.

_**Wolf Cain (18, D3)'s Point of View**_

Darkness, cramped close spaces, "Help," I screech out in vain. No one would answer.

"Jordan get me the Hell out of here please." I beg of him, I hear a laugh behind the locker. Footsteps, Jordan Karson is gone and I am stuck here all alone. In a janitor's closest, stupid Jordan I thought he was my friend.

Three days without food and water. I become weaker every once in awhile croaking out a call for help. No one finds me, no one comes. No one must care about me.

That's when I decide that I will never fully trust anyone again- ever. Jordan was one of my closest friends and now I was far from fathoming why he had done this to me? But I was trapped, no food and water- darkness.

"Wolf," I hear a call. It is my dad, I think. Phew someone is finally here. I weakly call out a response and stare out the holes in the dusty locker.

I jolt awake in my bed. Not that dream again, that dream is always the worst. It happened, of course I lived but I never can be the same again. I was week so close to death- you can only survive a couple of days with no water. The number is around 4 if I can remember correctly.

Jordan trapped me there because my father was a victor and because I had what he didn't. Not that I really cared about what I could have, it didn't matter. That was 4 years ago, and I still haven't let it go.

He should have been convicted. My family attempted to press charges on Jordan. There was no solid evidence for the Peacekeepers to go by. So he got off just fine, it wasn't fair. He could have been convicted with my dad being the District's sanest victor, but he was let loose.

I get out of bed and put my glasses on. It's reaping day- my last. Just live through today and the Games can never affect you again. Right after the reaping is the day every 18 year old looks forward to, well if you're not on a train being sent to your death that is.

Staring out at the houses of Victor's Village, I sigh. There are dozens of houses since the Games have gone on so long. Most of them have been in use. In District 3's history there have been 68 victors. A lot if you compare victor rates to the lowest Districts, but so few if you compare the rates to the higher Districts.

I could make it if I were reaped. In my room there are several pieces of work out equipment. It's always good to be prepared just in case some douche decides to lock you in a closet.

My 14- year old brother Lynx is standing in the hallway. He is probably the world's most unsympathetic person. How can I take his demands and forget all that has happened?

"Wondering when you were going to give up slow poke," he jeers yawning.

I shrug, "Probably Mom had to wake you up. Now come on let's just go downstairs."

"Don't tell me what I can't do just because you're older and bigger," Lynx shoves me. I let it go; don't want to cause any trouble. It's always been hard to though being the son of the victor of the 490th Hunger Games. Lynx actually likes causing trouble and getting into fights just to show how great he is. If he were reaped he wouldn't hesitate to punch the escort in the gut.

I sit down at the kitchen table with my family. Breakfast is good as normal; it is also a good- bye meal before Dad heads of to the Capitol to mentor the poor reaped souls. It's his turn to do the boy this year since I believe our most recent victor Ana Charles (who won the 519th Hunger Games) is taking responsibility of the 3rd tribute.

I chew on my eggs half-heartedly. I could very well be reaped and not survive my final reaping day. The only thing worse would be being stuck in that locker again with no food or water. But this time there won't be anyone to save me. I hope the arena doesn't have a big giant locker to shove me in. Who knows what the Gamemakers have come up with for the Quell? It's usually something out of this world. Like the miniature alien planet complete with alien mutts- almost like a sci-fi movie in the last Quell. I know this because it's all they've been showing on TV for the past 11 days in preparation.

The Capitol are seriously messed up, ripping lives from innocent children. And Quells if the twists weren't bad enough the arenas are always real life equivalents of a horror flick.

After eating I get dressed in normal clothes, a hoodie, gray shirt, and blue jeans. There isn't much point on dressing up on reaping day is there? My family leaves the house and we begin the short walk to the Justice Building.

I remember it when we were trying to press charges against Jordan. The whole thing had been hushed up, no one could know about what had happened. Besides wouldn't it upset the crazy party people in the Capitol to know the peacekeepers sometimes lost control of things? Nah they probably would just go get drunk.

I see my friend Kally Kusmic standing there waiting for me. I wouldn't have any friends and would be completely alone if it hadn't been for Kally's stubborn attitude. Maybe I just found it weird that someone would actually want to be friends with me soon after the whole incident.

I think I can trust Kally; I definitely like her a lot. Kind of in that way, but what if she doesn't feel that way back, then it would ruin our friendship, she can make the first move. But what if I die and she never knows? What if I am chosen?

"Hi Wolf odd that the clouds are so gray, almost white does that say something," she asks me, she often says weird things like this. I ponder on it for a second.

"Well maybe it means that it's a sad day because 12 more tributes are going to die than normal." I tell her, Kally nods her head.

"I think so. Did you have the dream again?" She asks me, Kally is the only one who knows about the nightmares that plaque me at nighttime.

"Yeah same one as always, but I'm used to it." The last part is a lie; I never will be used to the darkness and cramped spaces. The hunger gnawing at my innards still can be felt whenever I am slightly hungry.

"Oh Wolf," says Kally as we begin to walk. "I was meaning to give you this." She puts one hand on my shoulder and places something in the palms of my hands.

"It's for you. It's a present for surviving your last reaping." When she says that I look into my hands and see a golden ring (probably not real gold though). On it is the inscription, "The wolf shale not fail." It is the best thing anyone has ever given to me. Did she return the feelings?

"Thank you, but the reapings are not over yet," I tell her.

Kally smiles, "Your welcome. I know they are not over. Still keep positive."

"And if I do get reaped?"

Kally looks at me straight in the eyes, I hold her gaze for a moment. "Then take it as your token into the arena."

When we arrive at the peacekeeper who is taking names I wave to Kally. "See you here after the reapings?"

"Of course," Kally waves and heads over to the 17- year old section. She had one more reaping left to live through. But this is my last.

I sit down and make myself listen to the mayor reading out the Treaty. It's boring as ever, but I always force myself to listen. Just like classes in school, well at least knowledge is useful unlike this.

The escort calls to us cheerily as he skips onto the stage with glee. The yellow- eyes man is honestly the oddest thing I have ever seen in my life. He is new after the retiring of our old escort. Now he was promoted to District 3 from 6 after one of his tributes Alexander Filipe won last year's Games.

"Amelia Rivers," I notice a red- haired girl in the 17- year old section walk foreword. It could've been Kally easily since they were standing close to each other. Amelia's face is red and she is wearing a white lab coat, odd reaping attire.

"Now for our lucky boy tribute, Mario Lichen," a boy from the 12 year old section bursts out into tears. Shaking his head madly he walks up. Amelia shoots him a sympathetic look.

"Now for our final tribute in this year's Hunger Games Wolf Cain," the escort calls waving the slip in the air. I hope they demote him next year.

Was it all that surprising that my name was chosen? Children of victors are often sent into the arena. Something makes the Capitol blokes think that is fun. I can win this right? I can, I know I can. I see my father's worried gaze from up on the stage and I give him a hopeful look as I begin to walk up onto the dreaded reaping stage.

**AN: Stay tuned for our next exciting stop the lovely, tropical District 4! Home of many careers and the District with the 3****rd**** highest victor rate (after 2 and 1 respectively) will be the next District. **

**I wrote this chapter before it could actually be published, long story.**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: This chapter will also be somewhat shorter due to the fact one of the tributes in this chapter, Eos Rivers, is a bloodbath. Even with the bloodbaths it is extremely difficult to get through writing ONE of these chapters. Then I have a very long District 5 reaping chapter with all three tributes not bloodbaths (the chapter length will be mainly based on the number of bloodbaths. So Districts 8, 6, and 12, I believe, will have the shortest chapters. I'll probably go out of my way then to include the tribute that lives past the first day). Thanks to the creators of Fargo and Erin. As always I hope you like how I portrayed your tributes. I can't believe I have to do 13 of these! After this I will be about 30, long decimal point, percent done. But I am not giving up and I will NOT decline in quality. Read, review, follow, or whatever floats your boat. **

**I also messaged everyone who has a reservation. This is because I would like the forums before the deadline. You can still wait, but because the tributes' Districts are all in the later digits, it will be easier to tie them in now when I am forming what happens to each tribute basically. That means they are on my possible victor list for the main reason I don't want to say I will kill them in a certain way, then realize that the cause of death just doesn't work. They are also on the "unknown alliance" or "unknown romance" lists. Most Districts have one or two tributes I haven't written deaths for, now this is MUCH more than it seems. Why? Because I have only figured out how to eliminate all of the tribute from 2 Districts, plus I am willing to spare a tribute from their planned death- I did this 2 times already. One I spared because the tribute was not the right person to die this way and the other because honestly this tribute needs to go out with a little more of a struggle. I also have one District where all the tributes have NO possible deaths (I am not saying which one this is). Also, to the creators of the tributes I would love if you gave me frequent feedback on what you think. I haven't messaged you because honestly figuring out who reserved the 3 spots was enough of a hassle. But I will get to make a list of who created who. So if you could tell me that would be great, though I think I may have the tributes marked down for everyone who reviews regularly.**

**Chapter 8: District 4 Reapings**

_**Eos Rivers (16, D4)'s Point of View**_

They can laugh, but I am right. I know what is best and I know that the Games are terrible. Keisha, our volunteer this year, is the worst of my tormentors. "If you're reaped," she tells me, "I won't even bother volunteering." I hope she is kidding. I don't take tessarae, I am not that stupid. But Keisha is 17; she can wait until next year. Not volunteering because I was chosen probably would go fine with the trainers at the center.

People in ancient times were smart, more so than now. Maybe that's why I have always been inspired to be like them. Maybe I could change the course of the nation by having everyone realize how illogical the continuation of the Hunger Games is. Five centuries this has gone on, in five centuries everything is supposed to change. Sure we have had new technological and medical developments, but the Capitol hasn't changed in reality.

And yet the yearly torture of District kids continues. Some of the contestants are barely 12 years old. The philosophers in the books are better than those multi- colored air-heads that make up our government. Sure Ptolemy thought the world was the center of the universe and sure they lived thousands of years in the past, but they were smart. They were, and are my idols. I wish I had lived back then in ancient Greece, Egypt, or Rome- lands since destroyed by the savagery of war.

I stare out of my bed room window looking at the waves hitting the beach. I love my family's beachside residence. It is serene and peaceful here and in my tropical bedroom with waves painted on the walls. Pictures of my few friends and my family line my dresser. The sea- foam green curtains have tiny etches of black palm trees. Here I can get away from the pressure of not training for the Games. Here I can escape torment. Here I am free.

"Eos it's time to go to the reapings," my mom calls. Her name is Annabel my dad is named Brock. Then I have 2 younger twin brothers that are 6 named Alex and Hoover. I am afraid for them since they have already begun to train.

"Coming," I call back combing my blonde hair out one last time. I adjust my purple dress; it is the color of fresh grapes.

I nervously walk to the square with my family. Alex is going on and on about one day he'll volunteer. Brock challenges that he will volunteer first and will be the victor, Alex replies that they should be allowed to go together this year and both become the victor. My heart breaks at this comment, and then they would both most likely die. Do my younger brothers understand that? Am I the only sane one in this cursed District?

Our escort is the usual preppy goof. Her name is Aquarius Starr and her hair was dyed a brilliant shade of sea- green. Did she even know the sea wasn't that shade but a mix of green, blue, and gray? Who invented colors to begin with? The one who named the colors couldn't have been that smart, like bleach synonymous with white come one!

Mayor Peterson reads the dumb old Treaty of Treason. I see Keisha glowing, was she serious about not volunteering if I was picked? The idea unnerved me because I knew that it probably was very true.

"So," Aquarius calls in her high- pitched voice. "District 4 we are so like totally gonna win these Hunger Games." She is obviously smacking bubble gum, how annoying.

The escort reaches the glass ball and pulls out one of the slips. "I am so psyched to introduce you to our girl tribute, Eos Rivers!" What me? This can't be true! This can't be happening! No, I'll die.

I shake furiously as I walk up to the stage. I would never return to my lovely District. Keisha looks at me and gives me a glance that says, _what did I tell you? _Maybe with my death my brothers would stop training- probably not.

Well good- bye cruel world. Maybe someday you'll see a little bit of common sense.

_**Fargo Colson (16, D4)'s Point of View**_

"Hey Jester, let's see what happens if we stab his eyes out," says one of those idiotic crazies that always like bludgeoning innocent animals with random objects- sticks, kitchen knives, once even with a spinning propeller. Oh they also like hurting the innocent kids who decide to not train for the Hunger Games. Two weeks ago they were beating a squirrel to death. I stopped them, but there they are _again. _At least it wasn't some poor 11 year old I know whose family didn't let them train like 2 months ago.

I sigh as Jester nods his head and grabs the fish and scoops its one eye out. There are about 5 of them surrounding one poor fish. One of them probably stole it from the docks; they'd be in trouble if the Peacekeepers ever found out.

The torture of the innocent creature goes on. Occasionally the freaks dump it in water to let it breathe. Their attempts to keep it alive are laughable. Those meatheads are part of the reason why I think most careers are lunatics. One of them, whose name I do not know, is the volunteer this year. I feel bad for whoever he gets a hold of.

The only girl in the group brings the gray creature up from out of the water. "Hey let's cut out the fish's meat and show them to it."

"Or better yet the intestines," The boy, who was the one that had the idea of ripping the poor sea bass's eyes, out calls to his friends. I roll my eyes; did they already forget that they took out the eyes? I stare at the blood on the ground as the volunteer carves the wound. This is enough!

"Stop that!" I jump from behind the palm trees where I was standing and confront the careers.

"Oh look," Jester smirks, "It's that Colson kid again. Gonna save your cute little animal friends this time?" The last words are said in a baby type voice.

The girl walks up to me, pushing a strand of her golden hair from her eyes. "You know church boy, you're not from here. You've never trained and would die within a second of the arena."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" I whack the girl in the face. She jumps back honestly surprised and grips her bloody nose.

"Oh it- is- on." The girl hisses through gritted teeth. The last three words are separated as she charges for me. I duck her initial punch.

She gets me again and I jump backwards for a second. The volunteer comes up and lunges for my neck. I twist around a flip him off my back. I may not train, but I can defend myself. Or maybe I just get into too many fights over these things.

Jester and the girl pin me down. I use my free arm and struggle with it upwards; I slap Jester and then poke the girl in the eyes. The other two boys are also coming with the others. I duck and climb out from where they all hit each other and fall to the ground. I grab the fish and understand that it's close to death. However, I give it a fling into the ocean anyways just as the group pushes me to the ground.

"You lost it," Screams one of the teens. "Now I have to go steal another one."

"Hey you kids over there!" I hear a stern voice calling out. Oh crap the Peacekeepers were alerted of our presence.

I pretend to ignore the approaching man and spat in the volunteer's face. "So what are you going to do in the arena when they have to stun you to retrieve the bodies?" In response, the volunteer hits me.

"How about we cut him good with this knife," the girl calls. The peacekeeper lunges for her and disarms the girl.

"What are you doing here?" The Peacekeeper inquires through gritted teeth. I stand up about ready to explain when the volunteer interrupts me.

"Why he is just so jealous that I am going to win the Hunger Games that he randomly attacked my friends and I." I give the idiot a death glare.

"No, they were beating up a fish. I told them to stop it- they started the whole fight!" I try to explain, but we have attracted the attention of many passers going about their normal pre- reaping business.

I gulp as I see my dad approaching me. He looks stern, "Fargo what did I tell you?"

I look down on the ground. My dad offers to take me home and tells the Peacekeepers not to worry about it. He has influence, which probably saves my behind.

The two of us are silent on my way home. Yes two weeks ago was the last fight. Afterwards I said I wouldn't do that anymore. It was an empty promise that I was not able to keep.

When we enter the house I turn to walk up the steps. My dad shakes his head and points to one of the kitchen chairs. I sigh and sit down on it.

They had said that I wasn't from District 4. But I look just like someone from this District except for my black hair. Some people in the District do have black hair, only a few.

When I was a very young baby I was left on the steps of a church. Not just a church, the _only _Christian church. You can't expect a District full of careers to be largely religious. There are some other churches from other religions, but they are all considerably small. Well no one knew where I came from or who my parents actually were. The pastor of the church, Gorge Carson took me in. Because of this I have never trained a day in my life. I don't really care about the mystery of my past. I am like I am now and that's all that matters. Besides my biological parents could've been some creeps. I'm better off in what I know for sure.

Despite my dad being a pastor and all, he is actually a normal dad. Most people think he must be preachy and go throwing his beliefs down everyone else's throats, including mine. He has taught me about religion, but I haven't had it forced down me. No one in the church has.

"You told me never to fight like that again because it's wrong." My eyes are downcast.

"Look at me," I follow the command.

"They said I wasn't from District 4, they lured me into the fight. It was not my fault." I tell him as calmly as I could manage.

"And you're not supposed to follow the lures of others. I've raised you better. Today is the reaping day so I will take time to be mad at you later." My dad gives me a hug, "But that doesn't mean I am not mad. You know what I think of the whole Hunger Games. Go and get ready."

I nod and head upstairs to my bedroom. The whole concept of the Hunger Games is just sad. Killing kids for fun is not a good thing. And training for it, and/or being excited for it is even worse.

I put my outfit on in a bit of a rush. I am not the kind of person who checks himself every five seconds in the mirror. Those people are just plain annoying.

My dad and I walk half way to the square together. We say good bye and I decide to wait for my closest friend Jay. At least he is probably the only person who I consider being one of my friends. He also never trained; Jay is just too laid back. Unless you call him a pot head, then he gets angry. However, that's another story.

I see Jay walking down the street; he waves to greet me, "Hi Fargo!"

"Oh, hi Jay how are you?" I ask my friend.

"Pretty good, though scared as always before the reaping day," Jay answers me.

"I know it's really bad. I just don't see how they can kill kids for sport." As I talk, Jay nods his head.

"Yes it is totally wrong that this continues to go on." Jay says as we walk to the square. We give the Peacekeepers our names and they let us through to walk towards the 16- year old section.

After the speech is read Aquarius, the escort, leaps up onto the stage. She goes on and giggles about how psyched she is to be here today. I just want to get this over with so I can go home.

"I am so psyched to introduce you to our girl tribute, Eos Rivers!" As a blonde- haired thin, scrawny girl mounts the stage shaking, no one volunteers. I feel bad for her; she obviously is not a career. I have never met her before in my life and I wonder what she is like.

"Now for our lucky boy tribute Fargo Colson," what? Did she just call me? Oh no how could this happen? I shudder for a second then mount the stage. How could I enter a death match? I look out in the crowd for the volunteer from earlier. I see his face smirking in the audience. This wasn't going to go well- at- all.

_**Erin Parker (D4, 17)'s Point of View**_

No one knows why they whipped my dad. Well maybe it's because they ripped his tongue out. He is an Avox, so he cannot talk to us. It's probably only because my great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great and then some great uncle was the victor of the 312th Hunger Games, the fact that my family is pretty wealthy, and that Jade and I would be left alone kept the Capital from taking him into slavery. Or maybe they just wanted him to recover from his whippings, but he won't.

Whatever my father did two years ago, I hate that this happened to him. He spends most of his days with in bed or in his wheelchair. Maybe if my mom and Caleb where still alive everything would be a lot easier. Mom died giving birth to me and Caleb was killed in the 517th Hunger Games in the final 5. He was strangled by the boy from District 1. However, the victor that year came from District 8. I was nine years old, he was 15. Jade, my sister was 11 back then- she is 19 now.

And maybe that is why I trained for the Hunger Games. To get back to my family, to regain our status and life, and maybe if I win those lunatics will tell me why the destroyed my family. Still don't think I am evil, I think psycho careers are the worst people on the face of the planet. And one of my best friends, Bridget never trained for the Games in her life.

I take the die and run it through my hair. I prefer to have my black hair with brown dyed streaks in it. Since my family has money, we can afford inexpensive dye that will wear off overtime.

Jade has a job in the shipyard, working for a big business. The money helps a lot because my dad is unable to work. Every day she wakes up and fixes him breakfast then leaves. I have to leave for school in an hour, but I come home for lunch. Then Jade will come home due to the fact she only works part time.

I can smell the aroma of the recently finished breakfast still wafting up from the kitchen. The smell fills my nostrils and makes me sigh in relief. I was not chosen to volunteer, so why would I this year? Plus it's a Quell; some dumb career will probably volunteer anyways.

I dry my hands off and remove the smock covering my navy blue dress. I look at the hallway clock and know that I probably should get going to the reapings soon. On top of that I will have to help dad get there on top of it all. He is probably in his wheelchair right now watching the District 3 reapings.

Once I am completely ready I head down the steps and into the living room. Jade and dad are by the television. The reporter comes on in some highly accented ramble that I can't even begin to comprehend in the slightest details.

"Is District 3 on yet?" I inquire to Jade. My sister shakes her head.

"Probably in a minute, don't worries the reapings can't afford to get started that late." As Jade answers my question, the seal of the electronics District flashes up on screen, I sit back and watch wondering what tributes would come from the once powerful District 3.

A girl named Amelia is called up. She is red-faced and looks out of breath as she stumbles up onto stage. By the looks of her messy hair, white lab coat, and blue t-shirt she was probably running a bit late. A small 12- year old boy named Mario is chosen alongside her. I feel a stab of sympathy for this frail kid. I shudder as I look at the third tribute, he is extremely buff. His face shows little expression, which probably scares me, the most.

"We better get going," Jade flicks of the TV with a red painted fingernail. I nod in agreement. I wheel Dad outside and feel the warm summer air of District 4, the second southernmost District.

We walk in silence as we head up to the square. I see some people stare at me. They think I must be vicious and bloodthirsty since I spend much of my time training. But that isn't the story at all. One of my best friends, Bridget, has never even trained a day in her life.

I depart from my family and head over to my section of age. This is my second to last reaping, but I have no intention of volunteering. Quells are the most brutal Games and I don't want to be a part of one of those.

"Hey Erin," greets one of my friends- Ally. She brushed back a strand of her dark blonde hair with her tan hands.

"Hi," I greet them. I look at Tristan who is also there. Tristan is one of my best friends, but I love him. I couldn't help but wonder if he returned those feelings I carried for him. Also, there was Skylar and Bridget, all ready to see which three teens would be condemned.

"I hope we still have volunteers even though it's a Quarter Quell year." Bridget tells me.

"Of course there will be. Some of the careers are just too thick-skulled to see that a Quell is more dangerous and this year it is more likely that they will meet death in the arena." I assure her and she nods her head.

"You're right Erin," I can barely hear my friends' words because out escort has just grabbed the microphone from the mayor. The silver device magnifies the sound of chomping bubble gum.

She bumbles on about how we are going to win these Games and how she is so excited. Her accented voice hurts my ears. The microphone lets out a squealing sound that I presume she made.

She calls up a 16- year old girl named Eos Rivers. I recognize Eos from around the District. This girl was frequently bullied and never trained. I can see some smirking faces a few rows behind me. Was this District _that _insane! This girl was the volunteer and she lets some stupid grudge stop her. Ugh that is terrible!

Aquarius goes on to the next tribute not even noticing the sudden lack of willing volunteers. A boy named Fargo Colson, also 16, is called up. I believe that he is the adopted son of a Christian pastor or something along the lines of that. Therefore he never trained. No one steps up this time either. Why wasn't anyone volunteering for peep's sake!

"Now the third tribute," the insane Capitol women begins slowly, "It Bridget Hunter." Bridget stares at me frantically and lets out a squeak of terror. This couldn't be happening! Someone had to volunteer, but what if they didn't? Well I guess it's time to take matters into my own hands and win the Hunger Games for her.

"No wait I volunteer," I scream bolting in front of her. I hear some mummers; everyone knows I wasn't the selected volunteer. But hey a volunteer is a volunteer weather they earned it or not.

"Name and age please girly," the District 4 escort asks me.

"Oh, my name is Erin Olympia Parker and I will take my friend, Bridget's place. And I am 17 years old by the way." I answer and I stare at the crows as the final call for a volunteer rings in the air- no one else comes up. Well then, here goes nothing.

**AN: If Erin's part seems short I was stumped on what to write within it. Next stop is District 5. So as always read and review, favorite and follow- whatever you want to do I guess.**


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Nope I do not own the Hunger Games. I am NOT Suzanne Collins. _

**AN: Who else saw the HUNGER GAMES TRAILER? It was better than I thought it would be. I know the backpack was black not orange, but that is the least of my concern. Katniss just seemed a tiny bit to likable, but don't think I am saying Jennifer Lawrence can't act she really can and I DO think that! But I DID think Effie looked too scary, needed to have a higher pitched annoying voice, and her hair was blonde not pink. Or they forgot to buy the super- mega- ultra- Effie- pink hair dye bottle… Thanks to the creator of Julia. And I STILL need a District 11 male if someone would be kind enough to make me one before the District 9 reapings. District 9 male is due next chapter and District 10 3****rd**** tribute is due at District 8. Failure to comply within the time I get to your tribute's point of view will result in me making my own tribute that will not win the Hunger Games, but I won't kill off on the first day. Even if I do that, one of **_**your**_** tributes will still win. Please read and review even if these aren't your tributes. Oh and you can tell me what you think of the bloodbath characters, it won't offend me I really do not care about my bloodbaths to begin with. **

**Oh, and happy chapter 10!**

**Chapter 10: District 6 Reapings**

_**Julia Thomas (15, D6)'s Point of View**_

He may be my father, but I still hate him all the same. My mother, Linda Thomas, his orders, dead gone- she just stood up for what was right. But my mother hasn't come back, it's been three years, and she never ever will. I will never listen to him, he knows deep down that I am better than my whole family. Kindle, Mark, and Nick may be my dad's perfect rule- abiding sons, but I refuse to be that way.

You'd think that it would be great being the daughter of a wealthy family. My father is the head Peacekeeper, so that makes people stay away. I still don't care, and I probably never will. I hate being wealthy, I wish I lived in the slums. Then people wouldn't expect me to be boring and love every single dang rule the Capital enforces.

But I am a rebel. I know the Capital is harsh and unfair, I know the Games are despicable. Life shouldn't be thrown away like that for entertainment. If you call it that, I prefer to refer to it as "a slaughter fest."

"You know," Stephanie tells me as we walk down the street. "It would be better if there were not any Games to begin with."

I look at my best friend and sigh, "But if they did that people like my father and the Capital." I spat at the ground when the last word comes out of my mouth. "Would go insane and rebel. And we couldn't have that happen."

My other closest friend Curtis replies, "I know. They make it seem as if the Districts are the only ones "dirty" enough to even consider rebelling." We laugh as we head down the street in the mid- morning sun. The day is the best time, even if it is reaping day and District teens will be sent to their deaths.

Curtis and Stephanie have always been there for me. They don't care that I am an outcast; everyone knows that I am different. Since the second rebellion, District 6 has mainly been a quiet passive place that doesn't even think of rebelling, except for some.

My mother was a part of a rare rebellion organization that stretched nationwide. After the end of the 522nd Hunger Games, she and another large group went and protested right on the mayor's doorsteps. A few of the neighbors complained and the Peacekeepers, including my dad, swooped in and arrested everyone.

Of course, Theodore (mostly known as Teddy, what a horrible nickname) Thomas was put in immediate charge of the punishment of all 30 protestors, including Mom. He ordered the immediate death of 500 lashes with the worst whip available to all of the rebels. I remember the day I found out.

I had heard the news from Stephanie at school. I left right away, running out the front door not bothering to tell anyone that I had gone. I didn't think about getting in trouble, and I did get a week of in- school suspension, but I had to save the only sane person in my family!

I slammed the door open to my father's office. "Stop Father please. You can't kill mom like that. Make an exception, you love her don't you?"

"My love does not extend to rebels, Julia Thomas." He answered me coolly; there was no emotion in those words. I hated them, I hated the look on his face, and I hated all of him.

"She's your wife!" I protest.

"I have no loyalty to that woman!"

"Think of your sons! Think of me! Kindle is only 7, Mark 14, and Nick ten! I am only twelve! Do we deserve to live the rest of our childhood without a mother?" My words fly out of my mouth like venom from a snake's fangs.

"Julia, that is enough of your attitude! I want you to leave this room this instant and go back to school. At four o'clock you _will _come and watch the execution of everyone like you, including your mother!" Father shouted at me, his face was a dark shade of red.  
I stormed out of his office crying buckets of tears. That was the worst day of my life. Word had gotten around that I had stood up to the Head Peacekeepers, who was also my father. Everyone hates him; they are just too intimidated to say anything. I heard the whispers. Damn that father of mine. In the boring law- abiding District, what I did was the stuff of legend. Even more so because I got away, I lived after standing up to one of the most influential men in the District- the man who killed my mother.

Blood was everywhere, I heard screams. I could tell which my mother was; they all had wooden signs on the post where they were tied to. Fifty bloody chucks of meat where cut down. I could tell that my mother was screaming and her beautiful blue eyes so like mine where filled with her own blood. That was the only part that I could still recognize. And there was my own Father, standing there smirking. All of the bodies were lit on fire for torture, they were probably still dead anyways. The ashes were mixed in a large bowl and we could no longer see her. My brothers and I held on to each other. The ashes were buried in a pit far from the District boundary. And yet, my brothers still love my dad as if none of this happened. Dad would not tell us the location of the mass grave.

Curtis snaps his fingers in front of my face, "Julia snap out of it." I am returned from the past back to Earth.

"Oh sorry," I hastily apologize, "Just a daydream." My stomach is grumbling, despite having lots of food available, Dad never lets me eat much of it. I don't mind, I am used to it.

"So, do we want to prank any snobs today?" Curtis asks the two of us.

"Ugh not again, you two need to stay out of trouble." Stephanie informs us as we walk down the paved road. The many medicine factories are not running, everything is still and silent.

I push back my brown hair and say, "Oh come on Stephanie." Curtis and I love pulling pranks on the snobs of the District. Trust me, there are plenty of them. On the other hand, Stephanie is worried that we will get too far into trouble and doesn't want us to pull them.

"Anyhow, we better get going to the reapings." Stephanie sighs. I hate going to see the children sentenced to death.

My friends and I silently walk to the square, holding in the knowledge that all three of us could enter and would be slaughtered. If Stephanie and Curtis were both reaped with me and I somehow won, I would lose my only two friends. I would rather die than lose them.

We all walk into the 15- year old section where many other kids are congregating. Some nervously chat. While others just stand there wide- eyed hoping to whatever they believe in that they won't have to enter.

The escort walks up onto stage. We have had this same woman pick the tributes for 50 years now. However, she looks as if she is 20. Her magenta skin is wrinkle- free, here short golden blonde hair has no traces of gray, and her eyes are striped with all of the colors of the rainbow. She also has this big tattoo on her left shoulder that is of a heart and says Jeffery on it. However, this Jeffery must not be in her life anymore because it has a big "X" over it. It is replaced by several other names around the side. There are so many "X's" that it is hard to distinguish what the names are. Currently, the one name not X'ed out reads Mack. The name wasn't there last year, which leads me to believe the woman has never held a steady relationship in the last few years. The tattoo is the only feature of the escort that ever changes.

"Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in the favor of the District 6 tributes!" Her greeting triggers applause from the citizens who know they need to clap to make a good impression.

"My name is Elisa Spangler and I am pleased to have the job of your escort once again this year!" The woman's face is beaming as she approaches the 3 reaping balls.

"Now this year is a Quarter Quell. To mark the quarterly anniversary of the rebels' defeat, we will have three tributes this year in the arena instead of the traditional two." This escort is one for lengthy speeches. However, the camera man clears his throat at Elisa.

"Alright then," she mutters under her breath. A plump hand dives into the pink ball and seconds later a slip emerges.

I give a horrified gasp as the name is called, "Stephanie Cook." Stephanie, Curtis, and I share a panicked look. Stephanie shakes her head furiously as she stumbles ahead.

I am terrified for her. She has a family that loves her and a whole life to live. My dad won't care if I was gone. Wait is that necessary? She will die if I didn't do it. But was I really ready to sacrifice myself? No, this had to be done.

"I volunteer," I cry out. I start rushing towards Stephanie and grab her by the shoulders.

"Julia you can't!" My best friend gasps at me.

"Stephanie it is okay, I WILL come back," I assure her. As I continue up to the stage I give Stephanie a small nudge back to the 15- year old section.

"I volunteer as tribute," I firmly announce into the microphone.

Elisa looks taken aback at the sudden thought of a rare volunteer. Speechless, she can barely ask for my name.

"Julia Thomas." I tell her and go to stand where tributes in the past go after being picked.

"Well okay then. I am sure I will get a pay raise for a volunteer this year!" I roll my eyes at the last sentence and spit at her feet. Crossing my arms, I turn away from her abruptly.

As the escort shrugs and walks to the blue boy's ball, I look for my family in the crowd. I can see my father with the Peacekeepers right by the stage. His facial expression shows pure disgust. I hate you too. And if you ever thought you had any hold over me, you were wrong.

_**Nate Biggleton (14, D6)'s Point of View**_

I strut down the smoggy street of District six with my friends. We keep away from all of the dirty _poor _children in fear of getting our best reaping attire filthy.

"So Nate," Bailey asks, "Which of all the poor children will get reaped this year?" Bailey is the son of the mayor, which makes him very influential. I am stuck the son of the baker, but at least I get to have wealth and money. Money truly is everything.

"Well by the looks of it they have all taken boatloads of tessarae." I huff eying the ragged children with my icy blue eyes. "But all in all I think those 12- year olds over there will be the tributes." I point to a middle- aged couple with a set of triplets. I push my long blonde bangs out of my face and carry on. I can hear the father yelling at us.

"Back at you," I holler over my shoulder.

"Well it is true that they will probably get chosen. My father says none of them are ever in their houses because the shelters are so small and pathetic," comments Halley very loudly. Her father is a Peacekeeper. I only hang out with those who have parents of influence.

"Watch out Nate," Halley screams all of a sudden. She jumps backwards with Bailey. Suddenly, a muscular force knocks me over.

"Hey," I protest, "Get off me!"

"Nah little snob, don't they call you Nate?" I recognize the shape that has now pinned my down. It is stupid Keith Stryker, who is the worst bully in the District. I have never been bullied in my life! This is despicable; doesn't he know who I am?

Bailey is muttering some curse words while being pinned down by one of Keith's followers. His struggling is in vain. Halley is also pinned on the floor. All around us, the gang walks in circles like a vulture surveying its prey.

"Seriously, you better let us go right now!" I snarl at Keith. Frightened, it takes every ounce of my being to not wet my pants. This was terrible, why me? I am so scared and through all of my layers that is what I am, an easily scared 14- year old boy. This was so bad.

"How about if I punch you," the brute taunts me.

"You're as bad as the careers!" I hiss at him, "Were you one in another life?"

"Depending on your beliefs, I probably was a career. Not just a career, but a victor! And that is what I will become after this year." After these words, the kid punches me in the face. My nose swells up and a trickle of blood runs down my cheek. At least, I THINK that is happening.

"Let me go or I swear that I will tell my parents about this. And then you will be sued you stupid lump of a…" My insult is interrupted by a voice coming from down the street.

"Hey you kids!" Keith shudders and automatically lets me go. The speaker comes charging foreword. I jump up and wipe my nose, grimacing at the blood flow. I hope District 6 doesn't get that **thing **as a victor this year.

"Shouldn't you be getting to the reapings for the Hunger Games?" I stare at him not being able to recognize him from the high social rank of the few that are privileged with my parents' companionship.

"Why should we listen to you?" I ask with a dignified sneer in my voice. "If I was a tribute you'd all be subjected to sponsor me until I won. You don't know who you are ordering around!"

The visitor shrugs it off and continues his speech, "Unfortunately none of you have any time to change. Follow me."

"I know who you are," I grasp the man's shoulders in one of my slightly chubby hands. "You are a low ranking Peacekeeper. Why would we listen to someone so far low in the social order?"

"Because I am here by orders of your betters, the Capital," I huff a stream of air out and walk ahead of the man. I refuse to be _lead _the Reapings. Especially by an underclassmen in my District, why he has no right to even approach me that fiend!

When we walk in the square I settle down in the 14- year old section. A girl in my class is staring at my nose. So I tell her to buzz off and she leaves. I so love having power!

Elisa, the escort with a very odd tattoo, calls up a girl. However, another teen named Julia volunteers. I know her; she is the daughter of the head Peacekeeper. However, she doesn't even like being wealthy and according to her father is a rebel, not the kind_ I_ associate with.

"Now our boy tribute this year is going to be," the Capital woman gives a great pause before reading, "Nate Biggleton."

Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no I can't go into the Hunger Games! MY nose is even bloody. I cringe in the sheer embarrassment. I don't want to die! Only having lived fourteen years, I am too young! Cringing in fear I begin my walk up to the stage. And I look at the horizon of my District for the last time.

_**Keith Stryker (15, D6)'s Point of View**_

Stupid man who pushed my friends and I aside as we ganged up on those snobs, he saved them from a good beating too. Everyone in District 6 hates that Biggleton kid and his friends. They go around strutting like they freaking own the place! My friends (Carlos, Shannon, Marcus, Breck, Alyssa, and Belle) and I have attacked everyone in our school except them.

So we went right ahead and carried through. Everyone in school would appreciate and fear us. They already did, but no one ever dares to insult any one from a _wealthier _social class.

The society in my District seems to revolve around how wealthy you are. That and how much morphling you can get your hands on…

My family was never privileged; Dad was always drugged out on morphling and never was really around. If you ask me, he just didn't want to carry the responsibility of having a family on his shoulders. Well Mom was mad as Hell with his laziness and ordered him out of the house. They divorced, but my dad was clever and won everything for himself- including me and Cecilia, my 12 year old sister. Mom starved to death 2 weeks later after being robbed of everything she owned. I was not allowed to go to Sharon Yeller's funeral.

Others need to feel my pain; they need to suffer as I had. This all happened when I was about five years old. Ever since then I have been working up a reputation as a force to be reckoned with.

I hear the mummers about me being secretly from a career District. Others claim that if I was in another life before this one I was a career. After so many years of the whispering, I believe it too. So I will volunteer and I will make everyone pay for my sorrows in the past.

They need to suffer, especially the rich ones. The ones with money and power have to be the worst. Soon I will be in the Hunger Games, were torture is legal.

I stand in the 15- year old section with my gang of companions. They are all tough like me; even Belle, who has a girly name, is worthy. All of them look to me as a leader and admire me. Awe is what they feel about my plot to volunteer and win. When I come back I will get a house and live in it with Cecilia, my father will not be included. Upon coming of age, my friends will be welcome to join us.

Watching intently, I see a girl my age named Stephanie gets chosen. A scream is followed by the rare cry of a volunteer. Darn, I won't be the first volunteer in years. I examine Julia Thomas with my gray eyes, wondering how much of a threat she will be.

Then that snob, Nate, is reaped. He shakes his head furiously and, for a second, his body completely locks up. The boy's nose is bloody and he looks ridiculous. Formerly parted, his blonde hair is a mess. Biggleton won't be making any positive first impressions for sure. I would volunteer, but I will like to watch him die. Anyway there is one more spot.

Before the escort can even get to the 3rd purple glass reaping ball I start to charge up. "I volunteer," I yell, then give the woman my name.

Nate's eyes are huge flying saucers, "NO SEND HIM BACK!"

"Why?" I challenge him. The younger kid is hysterical.

"CHOSE SOMONE ELSE STOP PLEASE! HE'LL KILL ME!" Nate begs and the escort shakes her curly head.

"If you really want me to kill you," I spat at him. "I'd be pleased to."

**AN: These are some notes to reviewers who I couldn't pm. Now you CAN read these (I highly recommend looking at the first, but I don't really know what you want to do). Nate and Keith didn't have long point of views because they are MY BLOODBATHS get it? New rule that doesn't affect anything, if you say anything really negative (like a true flame not constructive criticism) I will feel a strong urge to kill your tribute/your favorite. Since I don't expect any of you to stare flaming, I would just ignore this. **

**No, the first one IS important to read because I need to know if these reviewers are the supposed group and who else they may have hit.**

**To Cweepp, Mr., Spamamarey, and danksAmillion I will not discontinue my story because YOU may not like it. And I am actually almost 14- years old, so I make mistakes. I don't have a PhD in writing and I haven't graduated High School. I don't have a beta reader, though I have recently decided to look for one. I will announce it when I DO get one…**

**This is fanfiction, I am a teenager. This is not a New York Times bestseller. I write for fun and, most of the time, people enjoy it. All in all, this is my free time shared with other people on a FANFICTION sharing site. **

**And if you hate SYOT's enough, why even bother reading them at all? **

**Do you want a story that REALLY needs condemned because of grammar look up these-**

**My Immortal**

**Starkis' Prophecy**

**DA GREET PROPESY**

**And **

**Imma Wiserd**

_**(No I did NOT misspell these titles they are actually SPELLED THAT WAY BY THE AUTHOR).**_

**Don't I look amazing now?**

**And anyhow, I feel it is necessary to answer some questions asked by Cweepp. **

**Mela having a "blank face" meant that she showed no expression. She is going for the simple angle, so she really didn't act one way or another. **

**I thought you didn't like the recap of the tributes' pasts (what you said with Pace). So why are you complaining that it wasn't enough for Mela? There is something called consistency, try it.**

**The reapings are not rebroadcasted and the chariot rides! They don't go down through the streets watching what already happened. The reapings are canonically placed in even intervals of time throughout the day. Therefore, someone can watch one after the other and make it in time for their District's reaping ceremony. **

**The Bloodbath characters, like Mario, are not supposed to be awesome or special. I kill them early and I don't really care. **

**Yeah I hope I don't know you in real life either. **

**I killed Crowe SO I can have PLOT EVENTS happen later and I needed a death for these EVENTS!**

**Canaletto is a trained killer, he is supposed to be a little crazy. I wasn't given much of a personality and I wanted a violent tribute. **

**I wasn't given relatives for Aaliyah (only name, age, District, appearance, and personality). I HAD TO MAKE THINGS UP! Same goes with Canaletto, though his creator should get a prize for the most descriptive appearance section.**

**If you thought for more than three seconds, the whole volunteering thing makes sense. Look, it is a shame to chicken out on volunteering or volunteering when you do not win the volunteering test. However, if you are injured you are not supposed to volunteer. Then the person chosen has to go in. My writing on this situation was based on what my characters knew at the time. Neither Jewel nor Aaliyah knew about Pearl's leg.**

**As far as no personality, I could be hiding aspects that I will reveal later on in the story. **

**You do not affect me and probably never will.**

**Now here is the other note.**

**To Totalanyl,**

**Really you think you know me in real life? Cool! Could you give me the initials of whoever you think I am or at least those that you know? This is mainly because I am not quick to give out my email address. And there are some people who would spam me…. So if I do post it, no one spam comprende?**

**Alright thanks for sitting through my letters and notorious author's notes. I am thinking of getting a beta reader. **


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Nope I do not own the Hunger Games. I am NOT Suzanne Collins. _

**AN: Who else saw the HUNGER GAMES TRAILER? It was better than I thought it would be. I know the backpack was black not orange, but that is the least of my concern. Katniss just seemed a tiny bit to likable, but don't think I am saying Jennifer Lawrence can't act she really can and I DO think that! But I DID think Effie looked too scary, needed to have a higher pitched annoying voice, and her hair was blonde not pink. Or they forgot to buy the super- mega- ultra- Effie- pink hair dye bottle… Thanks to the creator of Julia. And I STILL need a District 11 male if someone would be kind enough to make me one before the District 9 reapings. District 9 male is due next chapter and District 10 3****rd**** tribute is due at District 8. Failure to comply within the time I get to your tribute's point of view will result in me making my own tribute that will not win the Hunger Games, but I won't kill off on the first day. Even if I do that, one of **_**your**_** tributes will still win. Please read and review even if these aren't your tributes. Oh and you can tell me what you think of the bloodbath characters, it won't offend me I really do not care about my bloodbaths to begin with. **

**Oh, and happy chapter 10!**

**Chapter 10: District 6 Reapings**

_**Julia Thomas (15, D6)'s Point of View**_

He may be my father, but I still hate him all the same. My mother, Linda Thomas, his orders, dead gone- she just stood up for what was right. But my mother hasn't come back, it's been three years, and she never ever will. I will never listen to him, he knows deep down that I am better than my whole family. Kindle, Mark, and Nick may be my dad's perfect rule- abiding sons, but I refuse to be that way.

You'd think that it would be great being the daughter of a wealthy family. My father is the head Peacekeeper, so that makes people stay away. I still don't care, and I probably never will. I hate being wealthy, I wish I lived in the slums. Then people wouldn't expect me to be boring and love every single dang rule the Capital enforces.

But I am a rebel. I know the Capital is harsh and unfair, I know the Games are despicable. Life shouldn't be thrown away like that for entertainment. If you call it that, I prefer to refer to it as "a slaughter fest."

"You know," Stephanie tells me as we walk down the street. "It would be better if there were not any Games to begin with."

I look at my best friend and sigh, "But if they did that people like my father and the Capital." I spat at the ground when the last word comes out of my mouth. "Would go insane and rebel. And we couldn't have that happen."

My other closest friend Curtis replies, "I know. They make it seem as if the Districts are the only ones "dirty" enough to even consider rebelling." We laugh as we head down the street in the mid- morning sun. The day is the best time, even if it is reaping day and District teens will be sent to their deaths.

Curtis and Stephanie have always been there for me. They don't care that I am an outcast; everyone knows that I am different. Since the second rebellion, District 6 has mainly been a quiet passive place that doesn't even think of rebelling, except for some.

My mother was a part of a rare rebellion organization that stretched nationwide. After the end of the 522nd Hunger Games, she and another large group went and protested right on the mayor's doorsteps. A few of the neighbors complained and the Peacekeepers, including my dad, swooped in and arrested everyone.

Of course, Theodore (mostly known as Teddy, what a horrible nickname) Thomas was put in immediate charge of the punishment of all 30 protestors, including Mom. He ordered the immediate death of 500 lashes with the worst whip available to all of the rebels. I remember the day I found out.

I had heard the news from Stephanie at school. I left right away, running out the front door not bothering to tell anyone that I had gone. I didn't think about getting in trouble, and I did get a week of in- school suspension, but I had to save the only sane person in my family!

I slammed the door open to my father's office. "Stop Father please. You can't kill mom like that. Make an exception, you love her don't you?"

"My love does not extend to rebels, Julia Thomas." He answered me coolly; there was no emotion in those words. I hated them, I hated the look on his face, and I hated all of him.

"She's your wife!" I protest.

"I have no loyalty to that woman!"

"Think of your sons! Think of me! Kindle is only 7, Mark 14, and Nick ten! I am only twelve! Do we deserve to live the rest of our childhood without a mother?" My words fly out of my mouth like venom from a snake's fangs.

"Julia, that is enough of your attitude! I want you to leave this room this instant and go back to school. At four o'clock you _will _come and watch the execution of everyone like you, including your mother!" Father shouted at me, his face was a dark shade of red.  
I stormed out of his office crying buckets of tears. That was the worst day of my life. Word had gotten around that I had stood up to the Head Peacekeepers, who was also my father. Everyone hates him; they are just too intimidated to say anything. I heard the whispers. Damn that father of mine. In the boring law- abiding District, what I did was the stuff of legend. Even more so because I got away, I lived after standing up to one of the most influential men in the District- the man who killed my mother.

Blood was everywhere, I heard screams. I could tell which my mother was; they all had wooden signs on the post where they were tied to. Fifty bloody chucks of meat where cut down. I could tell that my mother was screaming and her beautiful blue eyes so like mine where filled with her own blood. That was the only part that I could still recognize. And there was my own Father, standing there smirking. All of the bodies were lit on fire for torture, they were probably still dead anyways. The ashes were mixed in a large bowl and we could no longer see her. My brothers and I held on to each other. The ashes were buried in a pit far from the District boundary. And yet, my brothers still love my dad as if none of this happened. Dad would not tell us the location of the mass grave.

Curtis snaps his fingers in front of my face, "Julia snap out of it." I am returned from the past back to Earth.

"Oh sorry," I hastily apologize, "Just a daydream." My stomach is grumbling, despite having lots of food available, Dad never lets me eat much of it. I don't mind, I am used to it.

"So, do we want to prank any snobs today?" Curtis asks the two of us.

"Ugh not again, you two need to stay out of trouble." Stephanie informs us as we walk down the paved road. The many medicine factories are not running, everything is still and silent.

I push back my brown hair and say, "Oh come on Stephanie." Curtis and I love pulling pranks on the snobs of the District. Trust me, there are plenty of them. On the other hand, Stephanie is worried that we will get too far into trouble and doesn't want us to pull them.

"Anyhow, we better get going to the reapings." Stephanie sighs. I hate going to see the children sentenced to death.

My friends and I silently walk to the square, holding in the knowledge that all three of us could enter and would be slaughtered. If Stephanie and Curtis were both reaped with me and I somehow won, I would lose my only two friends. I would rather die than lose them.

We all walk into the 15- year old section where many other kids are congregating. Some nervously chat. While others just stand there wide- eyed hoping to whatever they believe in that they won't have to enter.

The escort walks up onto stage. We have had this same woman pick the tributes for 50 years now. However, she looks as if she is 20. Her magenta skin is wrinkle- free, here short golden blonde hair has no traces of gray, and her eyes are striped with all of the colors of the rainbow. She also has this big tattoo on her left shoulder that is of a heart and says Jeffery on it. However, this Jeffery must not be in her life anymore because it has a big "X" over it. It is replaced by several other names around the side. There are so many "X's" that it is hard to distinguish what the names are. Currently, the one name not X'ed out reads Mack. The name wasn't there last year, which leads me to believe the woman has never held a steady relationship in the last few years. The tattoo is the only feature of the escort that ever changes.

"Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in the favor of the District 6 tributes!" Her greeting triggers applause from the citizens who know they need to clap to make a good impression.

"My name is Elisa Spangler and I am pleased to have the job of your escort once again this year!" The woman's face is beaming as she approaches the 3 reaping balls.

"Now this year is a Quarter Quell. To mark the quarterly anniversary of the rebels' defeat, we will have three tributes this year in the arena instead of the traditional two." This escort is one for lengthy speeches. However, the camera man clears his throat at Elisa.

"Alright then," she mutters under her breath. A plump hand dives into the pink ball and seconds later a slip emerges.

I give a horrified gasp as the name is called, "Stephanie Cook." Stephanie, Curtis, and I share a panicked look. Stephanie shakes her head furiously as she stumbles ahead.

I am terrified for her. She has a family that loves her and a whole life to live. My dad won't care if I was gone. Wait is that necessary? She will die if I didn't do it. But was I really ready to sacrifice myself? No, this had to be done.

"I volunteer," I cry out. I start rushing towards Stephanie and grab her by the shoulders.

"Julia you can't!" My best friend gasps at me.

"Stephanie it is okay, I WILL come back," I assure her. As I continue up to the stage I give Stephanie a small nudge back to the 15- year old section.

"I volunteer as tribute," I firmly announce into the microphone.

Elisa looks taken aback at the sudden thought of a rare volunteer. Speechless, she can barely ask for my name.

"Julia Thomas." I tell her and go to stand where tributes in the past go after being picked.

"Well okay then. I am sure I will get a pay raise for a volunteer this year!" I roll my eyes at the last sentence and spit at her feet. Crossing my arms, I turn away from her abruptly.

As the escort shrugs and walks to the blue boy's ball, I look for my family in the crowd. I can see my father with the Peacekeepers right by the stage. His facial expression shows pure disgust. I hate you too. And if you ever thought you had any hold over me, you were wrong.

_**Nate Biggleton (14, D6)'s Point of View**_

I strut down the smoggy street of District six with my friends. We keep away from all of the dirty _poor _children in fear of getting our best reaping attire filthy.

"So Nate," Bailey asks, "Which of all the poor children will get reaped this year?" Bailey is the son of the mayor, which makes him very influential. I am stuck the son of the baker, but at least I get to have wealth and money. Money truly is everything.

"Well by the looks of it they have all taken boatloads of tessarae." I huff eying the ragged children with my icy blue eyes. "But all in all I think those 12- year olds over there will be the tributes." I point to a middle- aged couple with a set of triplets. I push my long blonde bangs out of my face and carry on. I can hear the father yelling at us.

"Back at you," I holler over my shoulder.

"Well it is true that they will probably get chosen. My father says none of them are ever in their houses because the shelters are so small and pathetic," comments Halley very loudly. Her father is a Peacekeeper. I only hang out with those who have parents of influence.

"Watch out Nate," Halley screams all of a sudden. She jumps backwards with Bailey. Suddenly, a muscular force knocks me over.

"Hey," I protest, "Get off me!"

"Nah little snob, don't they call you Nate?" I recognize the shape that has now pinned my down. It is stupid Keith Stryker, who is the worst bully in the District. I have never been bullied in my life! This is despicable; doesn't he know who I am?

Bailey is muttering some curse words while being pinned down by one of Keith's followers. His struggling is in vain. Halley is also pinned on the floor. All around us, the gang walks in circles like a vulture surveying its prey.

"Seriously, you better let us go right now!" I snarl at Keith. Frightened, it takes every ounce of my being to not wet my pants. This was terrible, why me? I am so scared and through all of my layers that is what I am, an easily scared 14- year old boy. This was so bad.

"How about if I punch you," the brute taunts me.

"You're as bad as the careers!" I hiss at him, "Were you one in another life?"

"Depending on your beliefs, I probably was a career. Not just a career, but a victor! And that is what I will become after this year." After these words, the kid punches me in the face. My nose swells up and a trickle of blood runs down my cheek. At least, I THINK that is happening.

"Let me go or I swear that I will tell my parents about this. And then you will be sued you stupid lump of a…" My insult is interrupted by a voice coming from down the street.

"Hey you kids!" Keith shudders and automatically lets me go. The speaker comes charging foreword. I jump up and wipe my nose, grimacing at the blood flow. I hope District 6 doesn't get that **thing **as a victor this year.

"Shouldn't you be getting to the reapings for the Hunger Games?" I stare at him not being able to recognize him from the high social rank of the few that are privileged with my parents' companionship.

"Why should we listen to you?" I ask with a dignified sneer in my voice. "If I was a tribute you'd all be subjected to sponsor me until I won. You don't know who you are ordering around!"

The visitor shrugs it off and continues his speech, "Unfortunately none of you have any time to change. Follow me."

"I know who you are," I grasp the man's shoulders in one of my slightly chubby hands. "You are a low ranking Peacekeeper. Why would we listen to someone so far low in the social order?"

"Because I am here by orders of your betters, the Capital," I huff a stream of air out and walk ahead of the man. I refuse to be _lead _the Reapings. Especially by an underclassmen in my District, why he has no right to even approach me that fiend!

When we walk in the square I settle down in the 14- year old section. A girl in my class is staring at my nose. So I tell her to buzz off and she leaves. I so love having power!

Elisa, the escort with a very odd tattoo, calls up a girl. However, another teen named Julia volunteers. I know her; she is the daughter of the head Peacekeeper. However, she doesn't even like being wealthy and according to her father is a rebel, not the kind_ I_ associate with.

"Now our boy tribute this year is going to be," the Capital woman gives a great pause before reading, "Nate Biggleton."

Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no I can't go into the Hunger Games! MY nose is even bloody. I cringe in the sheer embarrassment. I don't want to die! Only having lived fourteen years, I am too young! Cringing in fear I begin my walk up to the stage. And I look at the horizon of my District for the last time.

_**Keith Stryker (15, D6)'s Point of View**_

Stupid man who pushed my friends and I aside as we ganged up on those snobs, he saved them from a good beating too. Everyone in District 6 hates that Biggleton kid and his friends. They go around strutting like they freaking own the place! My friends (Carlos, Shannon, Marcus, Breck, Alyssa, and Belle) and I have attacked everyone in our school except them.

So we went right ahead and carried through. Everyone in school would appreciate and fear us. They already did, but no one ever dares to insult any one from a _wealthier _social class.

The society in my District seems to revolve around how wealthy you are. That and how much morphling you can get your hands on…

My family was never privileged; Dad was always drugged out on morphling and never was really around. If you ask me, he just didn't want to carry the responsibility of having a family on his shoulders. Well Mom was mad as Hell with his laziness and ordered him out of the house. They divorced, but my dad was clever and won everything for himself- including me and Cecilia, my 12 year old sister. Mom starved to death 2 weeks later after being robbed of everything she owned. I was not allowed to go to Sharon Yeller's funeral.

Others need to feel my pain; they need to suffer as I had. This all happened when I was about five years old. Ever since then I have been working up a reputation as a force to be reckoned with.

I hear the mummers about me being secretly from a career District. Others claim that if I was in another life before this one I was a career. After so many years of the whispering, I believe it too. So I will volunteer and I will make everyone pay for my sorrows in the past.

They need to suffer, especially the rich ones. The ones with money and power have to be the worst. Soon I will be in the Hunger Games, were torture is legal.

I stand in the 15- year old section with my gang of companions. They are all tough like me; even Belle, who has a girly name, is worthy. All of them look to me as a leader and admire me. Awe is what they feel about my plot to volunteer and win. When I come back I will get a house and live in it with Cecilia, my father will not be included. Upon coming of age, my friends will be welcome to join us.

Watching intently, I see a girl my age named Stephanie gets chosen. A scream is followed by the rare cry of a volunteer. Darn, I won't be the first volunteer in years. I examine Julia Thomas with my gray eyes, wondering how much of a threat she will be.

Then that snob, Nate, is reaped. He shakes his head furiously and, for a second, his body completely locks up. The boy's nose is bloody and he looks ridiculous. Formerly parted, his blonde hair is a mess. Biggleton won't be making any positive first impressions for sure. I would volunteer, but I will like to watch him die. Anyway there is one more spot.

Before the escort can even get to the 3rd purple glass reaping ball I start to charge up. "I volunteer," I yell, then give the woman my name.

Nate's eyes are huge flying saucers, "NO SEND HIM BACK!"

"Why?" I challenge him. The younger kid is hysterical.

"CHOSE SOMONE ELSE STOP PLEASE! HE'LL KILL ME!" Nate begs and the escort shakes her curly head.

"If you really want me to kill you," I spat at him. "I'd be pleased to."

**AN: These are some notes to reviewers who I couldn't pm. Now you CAN read these (I highly recommend looking at the first, but I don't really know what you want to do). Nate and Keith didn't have long point of views because they are MY BLOODBATHS get it? New rule that doesn't affect anything, if you say anything really negative (like a true flame not constructive criticism) I will feel a strong urge to kill your tribute/your favorite. Since I don't expect any of you to stare flaming, I would just ignore this. **

**No, the first one IS important to read because I need to know if these reviewers are the supposed group and who else they may have hit.**

**To Cweepp, Mr., Spamamarey, and danksAmillion I will not discontinue my story because YOU may not like it. And I am actually almost 14- years old, so I make mistakes. I don't have a PhD in writing and I haven't graduated High School. I don't have a beta reader, though I have recently decided to look for one. I will announce it when I DO get one…**

**This is fanfiction, I am a teenager. This is not a New York Times bestseller. I write for fun and, most of the time, people enjoy it. All in all, this is my free time shared with other people on a FANFICTION sharing site. **

**And if you hate SYOT's enough, why even bother reading them at all? **

**Do you want a story that REALLY needs condemned because of grammar look up these-**

**My Immortal**

**Starkis' Prophecy**

**DA GREET PROPESY**

**And **

**Imma Wiserd**

_**(No I did NOT misspell these titles they are actually SPELLED THAT WAY BY THE AUTHOR).**_

**Don't I look amazing now?**

**And anyhow, I feel it is necessary to answer some questions asked by Cweepp. **

**Mela having a "blank face" meant that she showed no expression. She is going for the simple angle, so she really didn't act one way or another. **

**I thought you didn't like the recap of the tributes' pasts (what you said with Pace). So why are you complaining that it wasn't enough for Mela? There is something called consistency, try it.**

**The reapings are not rebroadcasted and the chariot rides! They don't go down through the streets watching what already happened. The reapings are canonically placed in even intervals of time throughout the day. Therefore, someone can watch one after the other and make it in time for their District's reaping ceremony. **

**The Bloodbath characters, like Mario, are not supposed to be awesome or special. I kill them early and I don't really care. **

**Yeah I hope I don't know you in real life either. **

**I killed Crowe SO I can have PLOT EVENTS happen later and I needed a death for these EVENTS!**

**Canaletto is a trained killer, he is supposed to be a little crazy. I wasn't given much of a personality and I wanted a violent tribute. **

**I wasn't given relatives for Aaliyah (only name, age, District, appearance, and personality). I HAD TO MAKE THINGS UP! Same goes with Canaletto, though his creator should get a prize for the most descriptive appearance section.**

**If you thought for more than three seconds, the whole volunteering thing makes sense. Look, it is a shame to chicken out on volunteering or volunteering when you do not win the volunteering test. However, if you are injured you are not supposed to volunteer. Then the person chosen has to go in. My writing on this situation was based on what my characters knew at the time. Neither Jewel nor Aaliyah knew about Pearl's leg.**

**As far as no personality, I could be hiding aspects that I will reveal later on in the story. **

**You do not affect me and probably never will.**

**Now here is the other note.**

**To Totalanyl,**

**Really you think you know me in real life? Cool! Could you give me the initials of whoever you think I am or at least those that you know? This is mainly because I am not quick to give out my email address. And there are some people who would spam me…. So if I do post it, no one spam comprende?**

**Alright thanks for sitting through my letters and notorious author's notes. I am thinking of getting a beta reader. **


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: As you probably have all been able to tell by now, I do not own the Hunger Games. Yes I put up disclaimers every few chapters ONLY to keep my stories legal. _

**AN: Hello everyone here are the District 7 reapings. Please pm me if you think any of these characters are Mary-Sues/ Gary-Stus so I can plan an early, brutal death for them. Oh yeah and Jayfish will now be helping me edit this story! You should check out her stories- they're awesome. Unfortunately she was busy and was not available to edit this time around. I also told my other beta, J.K. Meowling; I would not let her beta read because she is the creator of one of the tributes. I didn't want one person to know what happens to their tributes before another knows what happens to theirs. Anyhow, as far as announcements- after this chapter is done I will be halfway through the reaping chapters. Well thirteen doesn't really have a middle point, but I don't feel like getting technical. So please enjoy our District 7 reapings!**

**Please Note: I am having District 7 contain a small career training program. The training isn't as serious as in the other 3 Districts, but in recent Games it HAS produced a few victors. This District is not considered a career District.**

**Oh, also, since I received no reply from THESKYCRIES concerning their reservation for the District 9 male, I am forced to create my own early death tribute. And note to Allie is Dawn, you have responded to none of my PM's. Therefore, I made up my own tribute. Finally, I have decided to just make my own District 11 male because I don't want another tribute thrown into my evil plans that I have to live for a long time. **

**If I ever do another one of these there will reservations due within a week because this is getting ridiculous.**

**Oh and thanks to the creators of Tilda and Ray. Adrianna is a bloodbath tribute.**

**So the paragraphs will be up on the final list soon. The District 9 boy is Harvey Crusoe and the District 11 boy is Yarrow Walters. District 10 3****rd**** tribute is now Daisy Parvana.**

**If you think any of the tributes are Mary- Sues or Gary- Stus please message me. **

**Chapter 11: District 7 Reapings **

_**Tilda Axelway (15, D7)'s Point of View**_

District 7 is extremely hot in the summertime. In my family's small wooden home there is no air- conditioning, so it is a better idea to stay outdoors. However, today is reaping day and we stay inside to watch the kids be picked. As long as a totally helpless person isn't picked, I couldn't care less as to whom they throw in the arena.

My sister, Mel, is nervously straightening her plaid dress. Her dark brown eyes wander to the television. She must be worried about being picked. The first reaping is always the worst. After two or so reapings, you stand a chance. But if you are chosen at 12 or 13, your chances are very slim. In a way, I feel bad for her. I won't let it show though.

"Are you scared Mel?" I ask my sister as the seal of District 1 flashes up on the screen.

"Um, yes I am terrified actually." She says quietly. It isn't like my sister to be so silent and stoic.

"I can see that you are. It will be best if you don't leave though. If you know your competition before they know you, and you hold a little bit against them." I tell her firmly. The 12- year old girl nods her head.

The first girl chosen doesn't stand out much in my mind. The only thing that sticks is her last name, Peterana; she is the daughter of the mayor. Her District partners are your typical run of the mill career tributes.

"_Blue hair," _I scoff in disbelief as the 3rd tribute volunteers. _"And pink eyes?" _Mom shoots me a warning glance and I shrug nonchalantly. Weird as Aaliyah Lessia may be, at last she isn't helpless and weak.

No one talks much for the next 45 minutes. They are all probably mourning the losses of many children in the Quarter Quell. Mel looks at me with widened eyes and says, "Remember the bracelet I gave you when I was ten?"

"Yes of course I do." I assure her.

"Can I take it as my token if I get reaped?" She asks me.

"Sure I can go get it right now. If you are chosen, I will give it to you during the time allowed for good-byes." I walk down the hallway ignoring the sound of creaky floorboards. We could get it prepared, but Mom's laundry business doesn't pay a whole lot of money.

I rummage through my room until I find the wooden bracelet. The piece of jewelry carries the distinctive smell of home. If I am picked, I will take it with me. Unless both of us are chosen to go, I quickly shake the thought out of my mind.

When I arrive downstairs a girl with wavy dark brown hair called Rhine is in the middle of volunteering. She shoots one of her counterparts- a burly tough boy- a death glare. I don't sop to ponder as to why.

I thrust the bracelet into my sister's small hands, "You will be fine, and I know it. Your name isn't in there a lot, others have taken more tessarae. It is a plain fact that you are not likely to go even with your two opportunities." Mel nods her head.

"I think I'll go for a walk," I tell my family. Once they let me go, I walk out into the sizzling hot air of District 7. It is June, school is about to stop a fact which I am grateful for. Still the end of the school year is bittersweet; three teenagers will be sent to fight to the death this year.

My District is a busy as ever. As I walk down the tree-lined street, I peer at workers trying to repair the dam that separates us from a mighty river. It broke once, during the second rebellion, and half of the District was flooded. A memorial stands in front of it to represent all who died in the rebellion, and as a special reminder of what happens to rebels.

No breeze picks up as I walk by the school. The land surrounding is bare except for a few teens. I roll my eyes in disgust as a pale- skinned boy approaches me.

"Hey Axelway," sneers Kidston Mall.

"What in the world do you want?" I ask him as I sit down on a nearby wooden bench.

"You know as well as I do." Kidston tells me.

"Just go play in traffic or drown yourself," I nonchalantly brush him aside.

"Too bad Axelway, there isn't any traffic _in _District 7. We do not even have cars." I roll my eyes and the blunt obviousness of this statement.

"Well, I know that you want to pick a fight." I tell him. "You've never been like the others who run after I kick them where it hurts. You know what I happen to think? You- Kidston Mall- are an ugly, arrogant, fiend, who makes me want to puke."

Obviously, that is enough for the boy. He lunges at me and I swerve to the side. Then I slide behind him and grasp his head and yank upwards.

"Damn it- let me down!" He screeches after a few seconds in midair. Even though I am strong, my arm begins to hurt from holding him by the head. So I let him down and grab his arm.

"What? What the he-"A howl of pain comes from the teen as I twist his arm. There is no way I would let him go that easily.

"Stop it!" He demands me, "This isn't fair."

"Oh, it is very fair Mall." I give one last jerk and push him foreword. "Don't pretend I don't see you and your gang beating up on everyone smaller than you. Since I am your own size, it is much fairer than your average fight." I stride away, unharmed.

I see some troubled looks directed at me from my peers. They fear me and I really could care less. The need to be popular has never really stuck me. Besides a main component of popularity is picking on others who may not be as strong as you are. That is what makes something unfair.

I come to rest in the nearby shade of a tree. With the Capitol demand, it is a wonder that any lumber is left in District 7 at all. The heat is uncomfortable and I twitch restlessly.

"Might as well go home," I mutter to myself. I take the long route home because it contains the most shade. The usual sound of axes chopping down trees cannot be heard and it is more peaceful.

When I return home, my dad is pressing a cold compress on his knee. Dad's left knee has been bad since he hurt his knee in a work accident a few months ago. The Healers pondered on whether or not he would be able to work again. So I told them that all he had to do was get better. He still is recovering, but making some slight improvements.

On the television, District 5 is finishing up their reaping ceremony. A 12- year old named Karah is chosen. I feel a stab of sympathy for the girl as her older sister volunteers. Still there is still a 12- year old boy from 3 and a 13-year old boy from 5 in the competition. I will never understand why kids who are barely teens must enter the arena.

"It'd be a shame if there are any younger kids picked from the other Districts," I mutter to myself before walking up the stairs to get ready. Even though Mel had already gotten dressed, I wanted to wait until later.

I pull on a black skirt and white shirt. Really I don't want to dress up too fancy as if I am actually celebrating today. Although, I know I need to look decent just in case I have to go. I push my curly brown hair behind my ears and walk outside of the door.

Before leaving, I watch the District 6 reapings with my family. A girl volunteers for her best friend. Then a 12-year old boy is reaped, no one is willing to take his place. Immediately after a tough boy volunteers to be the third tribute, the younger kid wails in despair. Even though this kid has a snobby outlook, deep down I feel sorry that the Capitol had to choose him to fight to the death with someone he was obviously terrified of.

"Mel, Tilda," My mother tells us. "Just keep strong, you won't be picked."

"You promise?" My younger sister asks her.

"Then it would be an empty promise," I whisper to her. "Anyhow your name isn't in there that much. The odds are in the favor of someone else being reaped."

Those are the last words spoken as we walk to the square. I stride over to my age section and wave good-bye to Mel as she departs to the 12- year old section. Nodding my head in encouragement, I give an encouraging wink to the youngest kids.

Once I arrive with the other teens my age, I find a nice place to stand alone. I could go and talk to my friend, Shina. However, Shina is surrounded by a group of giggling girls. I make a not to approach her later at a time when talking to my friend wouldn't draw attention to myself. It is ironic that one of my only friends is popular.

Our escort from last year was promoted to 2 on account of both of our tributes making the final 8. Recently a group of citizens in my District have begun a training program in hopes of having more tributes make it out alive. They are blind to what this has become in Districts 1, 2, and 4. Both kids were careers, and joined up with the pack. Our girl, Radiance Adams, was killed shortly after the final 8 began by the girl from District 1 when the pack split. Our boy, Marcus Keyes, made it to the final 4 before he was devoured by a lion mutation. After everything went down- it was a non-career, Josiah Shay of District 8, was the one who crept up and stabbed the boy from District 4 in the back and became the victor.

I would think that this District's recent success would at least prompt the Capitol to give us a decent escort. Instead our escort is a first-timer after the retirement of District 9's old escort, Maya Stone. This caused the whole District escort system to be messed up. The Capitol citizen is named Timothy Walker. He wears a ridiculous feathery green hat on top of his head. His hair is curly and a shade of platinum blonde. To top it all off, he is wearing a highlighter green bodysuit on his brick red skin.

"Hello citizens of District 7," he begins with a slight stutter to his voice. "I am pleased to be your escort this year! Now without further ado, let's pick our three tributes for the 525th Annual Hunger Games."

Timothy is shaking in nervousness as he heads towards the pink reaping ball. He pulls out one of the manila slips and the crowd goes silent. "Tilda Axelway."

Oh well, I guess it's my turn to fight now. I hope there aren't too many kids this year.

_**Raynold "Ray" Malone (13, D7)'s Point of View**_

I love her and yet she is now doomed. The first time I saw Erin Parker was on the victory tour. She was standing with her family mourning the death of her brother, Caleb. Even though I was 5 and she was 9, I was captivated by her. In my opinion, she had a perfect face and beautiful, dazzling eyes. Deep down I knew it would never work, but 8 years later I still felt the same feelings for her. She didn't even know I was alive, but I always made sure she was not picked. I always watched District 4's reapings with interest trying to spot her. Sometimes I did and other years I did not catch a glimpse. I would wonder if she had died, but she would turn up the next year. Of course, there were many others, but she never left my memory. Never forgetting her, I told no one about my crush. It would make me look pathetic to the other kids in training if they ever found out.

Then this year she volunteered for girl who had been standing next to her. Wide- eyed, I gasped in shock as she rushed up to the escort and gave her name. She had to win these Hunger Games, she just had to! If I entered this year, she would be my ally. I wouldn't volunteer ever; I would wait until I was picked. They would think I was strong if I volunteered myself to be a tribute. Still the notion of protecting her is tempting. No, I would let her win the fun Quell.

"You're daydreaming again, Ray." My friend, Tatiana, says.

"Oh, sorry," I apologize then lie, "I was thinking of how awesome it would be to become a victor."

"We all want to win. Anyway, I think that I will wait until I am a bit older." Ryan tells us as we walk in the wealthier streets of District 7.

My family is one of the richest and most influential in my home. My father, Richard Malone, won the Hunger Games at the age of 17. He is the one that started to get me to train. I knew from a young age that I would follow in his footsteps and win the Hunger Games. Carrying on the wealth that my family possessed, I would earn the respect and fear of every citizen in Panem. Being wealthy is the most important virtue someone can have.

"Yeah, hopefully if any one who is actually poor is chosen, they will die first." We all laugh heartily at the Michael's statement.

"So, which of the tributes so far are you guys betting your money on?" Tatiana inquires.

"Erin Parker, from District 4," I blurt out suddenly. I feel my face being to blush furiously. "She looked so tough volunteering for her friend like that."

Tatiana chuckles, "Well I personally like Aaliyah, that girl has style."

"She's a bit too weird for me. I think Sai looks promising." Michael supplies us. Some people would think that we are weird debating over which tributes have the best chance in the arena. Why not talk about the show we will soon be treated too?

"I don't know about you guys, but I think that Wolf Cain looks really tough," Ryan tells us.

"All we know is that he is strong. It is better to bet on tributes that have a personality you can see from the beginning," I tell my friends.

"Well we don't really know any of them." Tatiana supplies, "I mean Julia Thomas and Chrissy Santoro look pretty cool, but we've never met them."

"All I can tell you is that Eos, Mario, and Mela will probably go in the bloodbath." Michael chuckles, "Did you see Mela blinking and just walking up. That chick is so absentminded and dumb!"

"I know, at least make a show out of being chosen." I tell my friends, "Jeno put up a good fight running away."

"Or dress nice," Ryan smirks, "Remember that white lab coat and t-shirt Amelia Rivers wore?"

"Well that is why we all are wearing our best for the reapings." I tell them fixing the tie on my black suit. I always walk with my friends to the reapings. It is like my older brother Rustle says, "You should be with the ones you like when there is about to be a life changing moment." I knew that this year would truly be life changing.

"Of course, I would die if I had to go to the Capitol in rags." Tatiana says with disgust in her voice.

"I wonder who will go this year and represent District 7?" Michael ponders as we pass the bakery.

"It'll probably be someone good," I tell them confidently. "Despite being poor, Radiance and Marcus did exceptional last year. We will probably get more career tributes and an actual victor this year!"

"Yes, District 7 is going to rule the Hunger Games this year," Ryan proclaims bumping his fist in the air. We all laugh as we give our names to the Peacekeepers on duty.

The 13- year old section is already crowded as we slip in. I brush my shirt trying not to get the filth of the poor teens on me. I can see my Rustle in the 15-year old section staring intently.

The Treaty is, as always, a bore. Every year it is the same speech, about how much we owe the Capitol and the eternal punishment we will pay for our rebellious natures. I attempt to make sure I look as if I'm listening, but it is hard not to doze off in a late morning nap.

"Hello citizens of District 7," our new escort begins. "I am pleased to be your escort this year! Now without further ado, let's pick our three tributes for the 525th Annual Hunger Games." Shame the man didn't even introduce himself! What manners!

"Tilda Axelway." A tan-skinned girl with curly brown hair walks up to the stage. I have never seen her in training before, but she is quite muscular.

"Now our male tribute this year will be," Timothy takes a dramatic pause as he reaches the blue reaping ball. "Raynold Malone."

Really, me, this is fantastic! I finally have the chance to bring honor and glory to my District. My lips widen into a smug smile and I stride up.

"No one better volunteer for me," I hiss into the microphone.

Tilda is staring at me, perplexed. Her brown eyes half hold sympathy, but also show curiosity and disbelief. She must not think 13-year olds can be good fighters and win the Hunger Games.

District 7, meet your newest victor- me.

_**Adrianna Wilson (17, D7)'s Point of View**_

Stupid axe, I can never make it work. Everyone in District 7 knows how to handle axes, except for me. My family is poor, so my only option really is to go and work in a lumber yard. Would the Peacekeepers whip me if I couldn't do my work?

My eighteenth birthday is in a week, and I know that I have one more reaping day to go until I'm obliged to look for a job. Couldn't I just pretend to be younger, since I have always been tiny? In elementary school everyone used to call me the "tiniest piglet." I thought the nickname was cool. It made me sound like Wilbur, from Charlotte's Web. I remember the day I found out what it really meant.

I had been walking through the hallways in first grade when a boy named Conner approached me. Deciding to ignore him, I walked away and admired my knew painting. The paint still needed to dry, but it was easily the best thing I had ever made in art class.

"Hey it's the tiniest piglet!" Conner smirked. The others laughed at the insult. Of course, over the years their taunts became worse and meaner. Words, mainly the worst cusses, were learned and became the vocabulary of any bully.

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked them.

"Of course it is dumbo," Conner came up behind me and pulled on my long, blonde braid. I squealed.

"No, no, no it isn't!" I protested. Some other boys came as I defiantly finished, "You know the book, Charlotte's Web? Wilbur was the tiniest piglet and he was a great character."

"Yeah he was a runt. Did you even catch the part about how they wanted to drown him?" My face turned a bright shade of red as another boy spoke up.

If that wasn't enough Conner finished, "And Adrianna, we are all going to drown you one day because you are so small!"

In a flurry of tears, I ran off. Conner was following me. I asked him what he wanted and he then took my painting and smacked it on my face. I screeched in terror, the art teacher was right I should've let it overnight to dry!

The girls' bathroom was the first place I could think of retreating. I should have walked right out of the school even though I still had math class. Standing on my tippy-toes I peered at my painted face. Then I tossed the canvas in the trash out of anger. The water I washed my face with was a cold as ice, but I didn't mind.

Even years later, I am still small. I stopped growing when I was fourteen. Four feet ten inches was and always will be my permanent height. The healers thought I had a birth defect, but no one could know for sure.

So, I stayed at the front of the section during the reapings. If anyone who taunted me ever was reaped, I wanted to see their face. It was an evil thought that I could never let out. I told no one of my treatment. My family knew that I didn't have many friends and couldn't keep the ones I had for long, but they didn't know the extent.

My parents, John and Cathleen, and my sisters, Holly and Sage, would probably be the only ones to miss me if I had to go. I didn't want to think about being reaped!

I squeezed my light brown eyes shut tightly as our escort mounded the stage. With my hands gripped tightly on the railing, I kept telling myself that it'd be okay.

When I hear the name of some girl called Tilda, I know that I need to open my eyes. I sigh in relief, only one more chance to be thrown into the arena. A boy named Raynold Malone is selected and no one volunteers as tribute. At least there is less of a chance my District partners will be crazy freaks. Wait? I shouldn't talk as if I will be reaped because I won't.

Then I hear it, "Our third tribute from District 7 in the 525th Annual Hunger Games is- Adrianna Wilson." Crap! I guess I was selected after all. Maybe I have a talent for predicting the terrible. No, probably not. My only talents seem to be dancing and painting.

I stand there with my head bent down. There is a hiss to hurry up from behind me. Tears are starting to flow down my pale cheeks. I did not want to die and I wouldn't die. I would beat the system. But first I need to act like what I really am, a weakling.

**AN: Adrianna had a short point of view, but she is my character so I don't feel all that bad about it.**

**I would like to wish everybody reading this a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Kwanza, and if I missed any holidays happy them too. Have a great New Year too. I wanted all the reapings to be done by then, but that isn't going to happen. These take a very long time to write. **

**Oh on a random note I was reading some headline on the Comcast homepage that said that the North Korean dictator dude ate giant rabbits and thought they would solve all of the country's problems. Yeah, I find that a bit strange considering my neighbors have a Flemish giant rabbit. **

**Oh I don't own Charlotte's Web. **

**Anyhow as always read and review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own the Hunger Games.**

**AN: Late update, but I lost my inspiration. These take a lot of planning and even more time for writing. Good news, my inspiration back and better than ever! Might as well update before SOPA and PIPA shut as fanfic writers down, just kidding, there is no way those bills will be passed. Besides I will find a way to get my fanfiction out there even if this site is closed down. But if Deviantart goes, I am in trouble.**

**People seem to like the bloodbath characters more than I planned. That's okay, but I was expecting them to have fewer supporters. Anyhow, thanks to the creator of Seren. Francisca and Xander are bloodbath tributes created by me. Now I think I stated that Mary Sues/ Gary Stus would be killed on the 2****nd**** or 3****rd**** day along with any repeated tributes. Now just because this is when your character dies does NOT mean I think they are a Mary Sue. There could be a variety of reasons the death order comes out to what it does.**

**Jayfish is still not available to help me edit this chapter. **

**Chapter 12: District 8 Reapings**

_**Francisca Hamilton (D8, 18)'s Point of View**_

"Come on, Fredrick. You know you love me," I pleaded with the blonde- haired boy.

"No, Francisca what did I tell you? You're not my type of girl." He shoves me aside; a pang of offense enters my heart.

"We'd be great together honey," I whisper stroking his hair. Fredrick slaps my hand away.

"Don't call me that," he hisses in disgust. "Sure maybe we'd be good together until you grew tired of me and went for another guy. And aren't you already dating Michael Trenton?"

"Oh Michael, he doesn't have to know." I coax tickling his chest.

"You are a whore, Francisca, in all essence of that word!" He snaps at me, turning away.

"But," I protest as he strides away. Most guys usually fall for me, but there are others that push me aside like I am unworthy. Of course I am worthy! I am currently dating like 3 guys.

I shrug it off and begin to walk down the streets of District 8 towards my home. Maybe I could live in one of the wealthy houses when I married into the right family. That's why I was after Fredrick- he is the son of the mayor. But I decided that I would get him, oh yes I would. Michael, Gorge, and Randy were all cute, but couldn't offer me anything.

My insides are churning with an unnatural feeling. I hate that boy! I really do, but I have deeply fallen for him. He called me- he called me a… It isn't my fault I tend to fall for a lot of guys. I never told my friends how much it hurt, how much I despised being rejected. They all thought I was strong. But I fell to pieces over a boy, the shame.

I fall into my hard bed I share with my sisters upon entering our house. Everyone in my family is gone, out enjoying the warmer weather June brings. My birthday is in June, and I will be 19 and free forever from the reaping.

Tears begin to flow down my face, smearing my little bit of make-up. "Why?" I moan falling into my pillow. I hate this District! I hate my life! Why can't I just leave? Today I could leave into my death. But I will choose life.

I hear the crack of the door that announces the arrival of my elder sister, Vivian. She is 23, and has her own house a few streets away. I have always gotten along with her better than with my brother, George.

"Francisca, what's wrong?" Vivian inquires as she sits beside me.

"Nothing, go away." I lie to her.

"You're crying, so there must be something wrong." Vivian implies.

I pull myself together and wipe the water off my face. "Just a boy, that's all Vivian."

"Did you break up with Michael?" Vivian says sympathetically.

"No, but I was going to. So I asked Fredrick Morrison out. He wouldn't take it and called me a- he called me a-"I cannot manage to spit the word out and I fall into her chest.

"You should've broken up with Michael first you know." I nod my head at her words. "I know, I know," I mutter.

"And what exactly did he call you?" She asks. I draw in a deep breath and tell her. Vivian shakes her head.

"Just go get into your dress okay? Mom and Dad should be here soon along with George." Vivian pats my back as I stand up and stride to my closet.

I stare at my clothes and sigh. Nothing is pretty enough, there is nothing new. All of my dresses are old. I cannot possibly go to the Capitol like this! I finally settle with a knee- length pink sundress with a straight neckline. I wish my parents would let me show some cleavage.

I think run the comb through my reddish- brown hair and look at my face. "You are flawless," I mutter, knowing it isn't true. I, one of the most popular girls in District 8, am a despicable person. The very thought just made me want to cry.

I grab some black flats that belonged to Vivian before I head for the door. My parents and George are now sitting there waiting. They could care less about the tears in my eyes. I sniffle and push all of my emotions aside and smile a fake smile up at them.

"If I make it through today, I will be free from the reapings." I tell them with a false, cheery tone in my voice.

Every one in District 8 gloomily files into the reaping square. I stare up at the stage waiting for our escort, the true essence of fashion. Just like in the magazines I borrowed from my friend, Cassidy, who could actually afford the expensive subscription.

We have had the same escort for all of my years eligible for the reapings. Her name is Didi Lakes, and a Capitol magazine has often called her "a stunning picture of fashion." Even though she has never picked a victor, I admire her all the same. Her eyes are a soft shade of lavender and her hair is dyed a warm shade of crimson. She always wears this perfume that spells like pumpkin spice, at least that is what some say. I have never seen a pumpkin in person, along with a lot of other things. District 8 is mainly filled with factories; it is a wonder if you see an animal. Most cats, dogs, and goats are kept shut in the house because you never know when some desperate soul will kill them.

"Why hello District 8," Didi chimes in her accented voice. Capitol accents are extremely strange, high- pitched and they move their jaws far too often. But after years of hearing the accents, I have gotten used to them.

"I am so psyched to be escorting the three tributes to this year's Hunger Games! Maybe we'll actually win the crown this year." I sigh as the escort finishes the last sentence; we haven't had a victor in 15 years. Our tributes have many disadvantages and the more careers the faster they fall.

"Now people of District 8, your brave girl tribute are Francisca Hamilton!" I freeze in terror.

Cassidy stares at me, "You can do this. Look you're pretty you can attract sponsors like mad."

"What am I supposed to do?" I whimper, "I am not brave!"

"Play the sexy angle, blow kisses at the crowd. Don't be afraid, just do it!" She tells me, patting me on the back.

"Breathe in, breathe out," I think as I giggle and strut up to the stage. I bat my eyelashes at some boys in the crowd. I can show no fear.

When I mount the stage I smile broadly and blow kisses to the audience. I take the escort out of Didi's hands, "Sorry darling I am sorry I had to take your microphone. I'll give it right back, but I have something to say. Oh, and I love your whole outfit, so fashionable." I am slightly embarrassed by the blank expression on my escort's face.

This was so going to come out wrong, "Hello boys. Look at me, your newest victor. I am hot so I know you'll all want to sponsor me!" I hand the device back to Didi and stand in my appropriate place.

"Okay then," Didi announces as she walks over to the boy reaping ball. "And your boy this year is Xander Smith."

_**Xander Smith (D8, 13)'s Point of View**_

"Work you little scum," the Peacekeeper slaps my back with his stick. I bend over, grimacing in pain. I stare back at the sewing machine and work on this stitching. There is no break from this shoe factory; it runs illegally on reaping days. The Capitol doesn't care, they never will. As long as we're there to see the names called it's all right.

I bend my head down and work on stitching the white laces. Yawning, I stop for a second to straighten my black hair. Then I put my hands back and the peacekeeper slaps my head down. I take my foot off the pedal, but not before the needle embeds itself in my head.

"Here it's just a little splinter," the cruel man plucks it out.

"No," I snap at him. "It's a lot more than that." The other workers stare at me as I stand up to the man. "You overwork us and no one can ever speak. Then you let us go to our deaths once a year. Peacekeepers, like you, are just the Capitol's little pets."

"What did you say," the man slams me up against the wall. The sewing machine crashes onto the floor and breaks into several pieces.

I repeat myself to him. His face is as read as flames and there should've been steam spewing out of his ears. "Come with me."

He drags me outside into the spring air. The firm grips on my wrists have turned them a shade of bright red. "Please," I whisper.

"You need to learn, ass," he screams at me. I am taken to the back of the factory. I gulp as I see the whipping post. Closing my eyes, I go limp as I am shoved up onto the pole of wood.

More footsteps can be heard as the ropes tie my wrists and ankles together. I cannot escape, great. Mutterings can be heard and I hear the strangled cries of my mother, "NO, NO DON'T HURT HIM PLEASE!"

"Be quiet," barks a deep voice.

A small high- pitched whimpering can be heard from somewhere in the crows. It must be my little sister Clothida because I can hear her begging for me to be let go. Oh God, there must be the whole factory here!

Suddenly, the whip crashes into my back. I howl in pain as another comes straight after that. I manage to let out moans after awhile, my whole body is sore. This must be what it feels like to die! The only thing that could make this worse is being reaped for the Hunger Games.

"When will this be over?" I manage to speak.

"Well, let's see, 40 lashes kill a man, and we can't have you show up dead for the reaping. Twenty will do it, you are at 10." I cannot identify the voice that talks to me as the next lash is delivered. Count down, just countdown it will be all over. Breathe in and out; they just want your pain.

I feel my bond being taken off, that is when I fall unconscious onto the floor.

When I wake up, I find that I am lying in my bed at home. Clothida is standing nearby, clutching her rag doll. The little girl sees my eyes and screams, "Xander's alive Mommy, Daddy he is gonna be okay!"

Dad rushes into the room, trailing after him is my mother. Mom gives a sigh of relief. "They actually have you twenty- five, said 'we lost count.'"

Clothida spoke up, "Then they told us to grab you and get lost. They said something like, 'make sure your bitch doesn't do it again.' What's a bitch? What did Xander do?"

"I spoke up against them," I tell her.

"You are too young to know what a bitch is young lady. Forget you ever heard that word." Mom, who is obviously exhausted, snaps.

"Now, son, we are not going to except you to change into something better for the reapings. I'll help you get there, but all you need to do is stand in the section by yourself." My dad says scooping me up like a little baby.

"Is it time already?" I croak. My dad solemnly nods as he makes sure to stay away from the bandages lining my back.

"Mrs. Cleary sure did a great job fixing you up," Clothida pipes up as we walked to the reaping square.

"Right, now children never underestimate the power of a good healer." Mom says with a forced cheery smile on her face.

We arrive at the reapings just in time. I growl under my breath at the sight of the Peacekeeper who first grabbed me taking attendance. I am left alone at the 13- year old section, I don't approach my friends. I don't feel like talking at the moment.

The escort pulls out the name of a girl named Francisca Hamilton. Francisca doesn't seem dazed by the news at all, she giggles and flirty heads right up to the stage. Idiot! Doesn't she know that she has just been called up to die? I hate her even more when she takes the microphone from the escort and makes some stupid speech.

"Okay then. And your boy this year is Xander Smith." What me? Oh, no! I have had a terrible enough day to begin with. Now I will surely die with the wounds across my back. That Peacekeeper just signed my death warrant, the reaping probably was rigged!

I slowly limp up to the stage. Tears start slowly flowing down may face and I cannot help it one little bit.

_**Seren Wispis (D8, 14)'s Point of View**_

Paper is sometimes one of the best ways to express your thoughts. The drawing sprawled out on the kitchen table right now was of what I imagined the world to be like just beyond the always active electric fence of our District.

I can't explain what it is really of. Some sort of District maybe, or it could be the forest. There is a waterfall with people standing around it with jugs. Alongside it are huts and bushes filled with berries. It is a world where everyone has enough food and water. But it doesn't exist, not like that. No person lives in the forest, they'd be dead within a few days. As I prepare to sign my name, the tip snaps and I realize after sharpening, that this pencil's days are about up. The set of 12 pencils I got on my last birthday are gone within 4 months.

Mom is sitting in the corner stitching. Nearby my Dad is reading a book. In District 8, it is hard to come by books. We only have 3 in our house, but my dad reads them over and over again. Maybe it's because the Capitol don't want us getting too intelligent.

I let out a cough. Mom automatically jerks up from her sewing, "Are you okay, Seren?" She must be on edge about today.

"I'm fine Mom, don't worry. Being sick isn't in my list of plans." I assure her and she nods to me.

It's hard to blame my mom for being cautious about me. Since birth, I have always been sickly. I've learned not to think about it all that often, but it is hard to ignore given the fact I have been close to death on numerous occasions. The healers sometimes can provide their services for free, but they could neither figure out a cure nor provide a possibly cheap explanation. After time, my mother was able to learn about what works and what doesn't. Often at nights, she snuck away to the healers' herb garden and plucked up what she needed. The Cleary family has never been able to tell who steals there herbs in the middle of the night.

I flip the sheet of paper over and draw a circle. Then, I hear a sharp knock on the door. Dad walks over and lets a man with a busy beard in. Oh, not him again!

"I need the rent money!" He barks. This man I have always called, 'The Rent Master." He is a Capitol man that has invested in giving "decent" homes to the poor of the Districts. Of course, we have to pay rent monthly and the prices just keep going up.

When my parents were newly married, they fell into the advertising trap and got this house. They were immediately surprised by the small two rooms, chipped paint, moth- eaten curtains and generally worn furniture. It had all been a scam and they couldn't back out of it. Worst of all, he has been awarded for his "generosity," towards the few less fortunate of Panem.

My Mom quickly stands up and approaches him, "I am sewing a dress for Mrs. Rosewater sir. After I get my payment, it will be all better. Trust me; I can get you the money."

"Do you even have it? Tell me the truth, because I am liable to do whatever I want to those who refuse to pay their bills." The Rent Collector hisses.

"We do," my dad says, "but we need it to buy food and water, maybe some more needles and thread."

My mom runs out of the room and returns with a stack of green paper, "Here are thirty out of the forty bucks we owe. Please, I am selling the dress for five, and my son can go to the factory tomorrow and make his wages of one dollar. I am also fixing Mrs. Alexandria's hat for two."

"And I earn a one dollar a day wage at the factory also," Dad says. "Our son has been feeling better lately."

"Why should I care about the health of your son? The only good District kid is a fit one who can work or win the Hunger Games! How much money is also in your home?" I clench my fists and look away from this man.

My mother gulps, "Ten dollars sir. We have some berries and five supplies of the tessarae grain, but we need more because that food can only last for so long."

"Ah, so you can pay the rent. Give me the money know or I know just what to do with this pretty wife of yours Mr. Wispis." Mom gasps at these words. I stand up and leave the room. This is just too much, I hate him. Maybe he notices my abrupt departure, but I don't really care. I won't make a scene and I won't give him a reaction. If I ever grow up, I will get a Capitol supplied house to live in.

Dad follows me in the room and picks up the rest of the money. "This is all we have, Seren." There are tears in my usually stoic dad's eyes.

"We can get more money, dad. I will go work in the factory the rest of this week." I promise him.

"You'll catch your death in that factory," Dad sighs as he walks out of the room.

A few minutes later I hear a yell, "And next time around, don't be so poor!" Oh, I hate that man. It isn't because he was raised in the Capitol, or maybe it is. I try to convince myself that he was just raised in a different light, but there isn't really any good reason for the way he has treated my family.

Suddenly, I know what my picture should be of. I draw a caricature of the terrible man. I draw his bushy eyebrows and mustache (dyed electric blue, though my picture doesn't show it) and his plump features. He has a greedy grin on his face and is holding a wad of money. I smile looking down at it. It would all be okay soon, I would head to the factory with Dad tomorrow and Mom will work constantly like always.

"Seren," my mom says as she walks in.

"Yes," I answer.

"You ought to start getting ready for the reaping ceremony." She tells me, her brown eyes are filled with anxiety.

"I won't be reaped don't worry," I assure her. "It'll be okay, I am not stupid enough to volunteer."

"Of course you aren't. But Seren, son, most people in District 8 are smart enough to not volunteer for their deaths." I nod, really my mother has the best intentions, but it is kind of annoying me.

Before I know it, I find myself walking towards the Town Square. Beside me is my only friend Wil, I don't really have all that many friends. It doesn't bother me and I try not to let those boys that call me a "sissy" get to me.

"You know," Wil says, "I think that it is madness for the Hunger Games to have gone on this long."

"I know the Capitol is just out for whatever they can squeeze out of us." I sigh looking up at the smoggy sky.

"I don't want to be a pawn," Wil says. "If I am reaped, I don't know what I would do. I mean it would be terrifying to leave home and be forced into the arena."

"You won't be picked," I assure him, "Your older sister took on most of the tessarae in your family. Susan could make it past the bloodbath no problem." Wil nods. Even if a District 8 tribute makes it past the Cornucopia, their chances are very slim.

Wil then unexpectedly screams, "I hate the Capitol for all they do and their treachery!"

"Calm down," I whisper to him. "You don't want a Peacekeeper to hear you."

"You're right Seren," Wil answers, "My mouth just got the better part of me, that is all."

"It is fine, I agree with you about the Games. Maybe not the Capitol as a whole, but the Games are savagery."

"Yeah, I wonder who will be picked this year. I wonder who will be the favorite to win. And I wonder about the victor, what District will they be from? I hope they are from 8 for once. I mean, the chances of that are slim. Still if anyone I know is chosen, I will want them to win with all my heart. Well unless they are a total ass." Wil jabbers in his quick tone of voice.

Before I know it, I am giving my name to one of the Peacekeepers. The square is filled with gloomy- eyed kids and just beyond are distraught parents and citizens clinging onto one another. The few religious citizens look as if they are praying to whatever God they believe in, or maybe every single one believed in, that no one they know will be sent away. It is a dismal sight, one that we are faced with every year.

"So, Wil, I guess I will see you after the reaping?" I ask.

"Sure, do you want to come over," my friend offers. I smile, Wil is a close as my own brother and his family is like a second family to me.

"Of course, I would give anything to be able to get away from home right now. The Rent Master came this morning and took all of our money."

Wil frowns at me, "Well that is just terrible! Don't worry everybody will be fine, well except the tributes that is."

"See you, may the odds not be in the favor of you being picked." I tell him waving.

"You too," Wil says and he departs to the 12- year old section. I remember my first reaping, I was sick that day and terrified of being picked to go. However, a 16- year old boy was picked for the 521st annual Hunger Games; he was killed in the Bloodbath.

Our escort, named Didi, is as giggly as ever. She is a sight enough to make your eyes scream. All I know is that I have seen enough Capitol citizens for a day, no for an entire lifetime.

"Why hello District 8, I am so psyched to be escorting the three tributes to this year's Hunger Games! Maybe we'll actually win the crown this year." Did chirps as she trots over to the first reaping ball and an eerie silence fills the District in anticipation.

As if for dramatic effect, Didi takes her time selecting which slip to remove from the ball. When she finds a manila- colored slip she likes, she takes her time opening it. Finally, she announces, "Now people of District 8, your brave girl tribute is Francisca Hamilton!"

A tall girl with large breasts and fluffy red hair soon comes out of the 18- year old section. She is giggling and blowing kisses, one comes in my direction (probably not on purpose) and I move to the side. Francisca then takes the microphone from the Capitol woman and goes off on a ramble about how she loves Capitol fashion. Yes, this girl is insane.

Didi must not know what to say because she continues on with selecting the doomed kids, "Okay then. And your boy this year is Xander Smith." A gaunt- looking boy with pale skin and black hair limps up to the stage. I feel a jab of pity for him as tears start flowing from his face. Xander is obviously in a lot of pain.

"Alright then, now that we have our first two tributes, all that I need to do is pick is the third!" I take a deep breath; I have almost made it through this reaping day.

"Wil Jordan, is there a Mister Wil Jordan here?" I gasp in shock as Wil makes his way out of his section. No, no, he can't go. Wil has his entire life ahead of him and I would probably just die young anyways. He can't go, he just can't.

"No," I yell before I know what I am about to do. "I volunteer." The crowd gasps as I push my way through the 14- year olds.

"No, Seren you can't go." Wil whimpers "Let me go please!"

"I am not letting you die like this." I tell him calmly. I can shed no tears. All I can do is hold them back at the sight of Wil's watery eyes.

"This is my entire fault." Wil hollers. "Isn't it Seren?"

"No it isn't. Look I have always been sickly and…"

Will interrupts me, "Don't show your strengths on camera."

"I don't care right now Wil. You have your whole life ahead of you. Me, well I probably was going to die young anyways." I throw my arms around Wil as the Peacekeepers pull us apart.

"Do we have a volunteer?" Didi asks from the stage. My District partners have confused looks on their faces.

"Yes, I Seren Wispis of District 8 volunteer to take the place of Wil Jordan in the 525th Hunger Games." I announce as I walk up the stairs of doom. Breathing out, I realize that I have just sealed my fate.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of District 8, I give you your tributes for the 525th Annual Hunger Games. I give you Francisca Hamilton, Xander Smith, and Seren Wispis."

**AN: I promise I will update this more often in the future. Okay then, bye!**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Sorry this took a long time. I've been really busy lately and I needed a break from the reapings. But we are on District 9 and that means after this only four more Districts! Then I go to chariot, training, interviews, and then you all get to watch- well, read- your tributes fighting to the death in a very interesting arena. No, I will not be throwing the tributes into a forest, which gets boring. Besides I think Quells need to have a bit more substance to their arenas. Anyway I think forests are boring, remember the arenas of the 50****th**** and 75****th**** Games, why not have a little fun? That doesn't mean I will repeat because I hate that too.**

**Thanks to the creators of Jess and Alara. Since the person who reserved the District 9 male never responded or gave me the tribute, I had to make my own up. So I created Harvey, I am not going to do away with him in the bloodbath, but he dies early on. He, Daisy, and Yarrow are like that- normal tributes with no chance of winning the Games. If I ever do another SYOT after this the tributes must come in within a week UNLESS there is a good reason otherwise.**

**I have also decided that it would be less work to not include the point of views of bloodbath/early death tributes. So no more of those point of views, just what the others mention and such will be all of the information on these tributes. Since I actually created them I don't think I am disappointing anyone too much. So for this chapter it is just Alara and Jess.**

**So as far as announcements, that is it. Kick back and enjoy.**

**Oh and I know I didn't use the "official" industries of District 5, 6, and 9. However, I wrote those down because I thought those made sense at the time. Not going to change them. Want to complain, well that was written down before it was released and back then I didn't give a rat's a- never mind I could go and rant, but here is the story. Don't want to bore you with my occasional rage on stupid comments someone could make, even though no one has.**

**Chapter 13: District 9 Reapings**

_**Alara Lee (D9, 14)'s Point of View**_

Humming, I skip down the streets of my District. Despite the dreariness of today, it actually isn't all that bad. I just need to keep my mind off of certain death.

I grip the basket of food tightly to my chest. Inside are 2 loaves of bread and a small jar of honey. The bread and honey, along with blackberries, will feed my family when we have our dinner tonight. We are not all that poor, but food is hard to come by in District 9.

The warm sun beats down on the pavement as I head home. The sky is bright and cloudless; the song of a Mockingjay can be heard. The gray bird must have flown away from the forest. Poor thing, the Peacekeepers are quick to kill any Mockingjays that stray in, if a citizen doesn't get it first.

Suddenly, I hear a shriek wailing in the distance. I trip over a rock and my backset tumbles out of my hands. Blushing furiously, I walk over and grab the cracked jar along with the bread. I inspect the goods and wrap the cloth cover over them. What had I heard? Crime rates in my District are not all that high; the only scuffles that break out are over food.

"SIDHE AALTO, WHAT THE HELL TO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" I hear a screech in the distance. Aalto? It must be the family of one of my best friends, Kalma. Curiously, I scamper of in that direction. I know the way to the Aalto residence by heart.  
When I arrive, I gasp as I see Sidhe and Mrs. Aalto standing on the sidewalk. In one of Sidhe's hands is a slingshot and in the other is a Mockingjay- bloody and beaten.

"I just wanted to get some food for us Mother." Sidhe points out.

"Well you certainly are not putting this family in danger young man!" Mrs. Aalto screeches. "Now get in the house before I switch you with a paddle. I am going to make sure you never forget the beating I will give you."

"What about the bird?"

"We can eat it, son. Still it needs to be gutted and hidden. You must do the task and, no, I am not aware of how to do it myself. Go ahead now." Sidhe's mother thrusts her hand towards the door and her son reluctantly enters the house.

I sit on the ground and stare at the blood stain on the ground. It was a miracle that the Peacekeepers were not present. Poaching- even of a silly bird who wandered out of its territory- is punishable by death.

Kalma then walks out of the door, sweat is covering her face. She automatically sees me and waves. I stride over to her.

"Hello Alara," Kalma says quietly.

"Hi Kalma, did you see your brother kill the bird? The shot was really loud and I was so worried when I heard it. I hope you're mom isn't that hard on Sidhe, especially on reaping day. He just wanted to feed you guys and that isn't punishable, except, well it kind of is."

At my response, she shuffles her feet nervously. "I think we are all a little jittery because it is..." Kalma breaks of her sentence and stares at the ground.

"I know, but hey none of us will be hurt. The Hunger Games affects other people, not us." Kalma sighs at my comment and I shut up.

"It affected Tellervo." My friend whispers.

"I know, but maybe she is in another place- a better one." I add, hopefully.

"Sometimes Alara, I still see it in my dreams. I have to watch the boy from District 2 launch a knife into her skull. Then I have to watch him having his head sliced off by his District partner. He was bad, but, but I didn't want to see that happen. Then the girl from District 4, Kendra Keyes, won. I didn't want her to win, she was too brutal. The way she could look in the eyes of the families of those she killed…" Kalma breaks off and begins to play with a strand of her brown hair.

I have never been able to understand the Hunger Games, or what it means to be taken away and to die. My parents have never told me. Of course, I don't want to know. After Tellervo died at the age of 15, everyone was very sad. I attempted to cheer them up, hoping my happiness would rub off on them.

"You know, Sidhe really hates you."

"What?" I gasp in surprise. No one really hates me, right? I mean people are really great and what is there about me to hate? I have enemies, since when?

"Ever since you acted all cheery at Tellervo's funeral, he had treated you like some kind of crazy."

"Why?" I ask her.

"God, you really are naïve Alara. Brina, you know that snobby girl that always trash talks you, does too." Kalma says the quickly adds, "I hate to be the one to tell you that."

"Don't," I tell her. "I better get going home. Enjoy the bird; I'll see you at the reaping." My friend waves as I hurry down the street.

How could I have gone my whole life and not known about the fact that I have enemies? Maybe I am naïve. I hang my head down in embarrassment at the fact. I try to be a good person and to think the best of people, but really? If it had really hurt Sidhe that much, couldn't he have just told me to cry like a "normal person," or something?

When I arrive at my home, my older sister is standing in the doorway. Lolita is 17 years old and has always been, well, cold.

"Lolita," I tell her, "Guess what. Kalma told me that her brother hates me for being cheery."

Lolita rolls her light brown eyes. "It doesn't matter, you know. And sometimes you are too cheery at the most inconvenient times. You know, only the Capitol people are supposed to smile on reaping day."

"I was just trying to cheer them all up back then. It's not my fault that Tellervo was chosen to compete in the 523rd Hunger Games. So why does he blame me?" I blurt out.

Lolita sighs, "No one ever said he blames you, sis. He just finds you simply annoying."

Should the thought that my own sister doesn't tell me that he probably doesn't worry me? Lolita is a bit of a loner, she always has claimed that I am my parents' favorite. Of course it isn't true, though. Still my parents wouldn't tell me that he might not actually like me at all.

I walk passed her and put the food onto the table. My mom over and wraps her arms around me.

"Are you nervous for the reapings Alara?" She asks running her fingers through my dark brown hair.

"A bit, but they can't hurt us. I mean they hurt the Aalto family, but the Lees can never be touched by them." I assure her handing her the loaves and jar.

"How was the honey jar cracked?" Mom asks sternly.

"I tripped and it fell out," I say moving my pointer finger over the crack.

"It'll have to do." She says then turns her attention over to Lolita, "Come over here Loli!"

"I told you to stop calling me Loli," my sister snaps, "It's babyish." My mother doesn't retort back at Lolita and lets her keep talking.

"What you don't understand is you need to stop treating my sister and I like babies."

"Leave me out of this." I snap at her. So my older sister rushes to my defense now when she has resented me all of my fourteen years?

"It's about you as much as it is about me. If Alara was thrown in the arena, she wouldn't know what to do. The only reason I actually know about the shit the Capitol causes is because I asked one of my friends to tell me at twelve!" Lolita storms out at her.

"Watch your language young lady!"

"I can use whatever language I want!"

"Not in front of your sister and not under my roof."

"Alara, tell her how much you hate being treated like a baby." All of a sudden, I am on the spot in this argument. I feel myself growing tense.

"I don't know- I don't know what I think." I scream and I run to my room. Dad passes me in the hallway. His lips form my name, but I cannot listen.

I collapse onto my bed and burry my head in my pillow. Did she really have to put me on the spot? Seriously, what did I even do?

The only thing I really could do was to get ready for the reaping ceremony. I pulled out my long pale orange gown; it belonged to Lolita when she was around my age. I change and then pull my hair up into a ponytail.

Once the screaming has calmed down, Lolita strides into our bedroom and points her finer towards the door. I can understand the fact she wants privacy while changing to I exit the room.

Time flies and before I know it I am standing in crowd. The reaping balls are rolling and a few of those slips bear my name. Standing beside me are Kalma and Lily, another close friend of mine.

"It'd be awful if one of us had to go into the arena. I mean District 9 hasn't had a victor in forever. Remember last year and the 517th Games when the District 8 escort was sick and our escort filled in there? I men those two times District 8 actually won the Hunger Games! Our last victor was in which year, oh the 502nd Annual Hunger Games, Rodney Clarksmen. Now he is an alcoholic and is wasting away his life." It is comforting to listen to Lily's constant, nervous chatter.

Once she takes a breath I put in a comment, "Nothing will happen to us."

"I wish that had to be true," Kalma sighs.

"We all need a little bit of hope." I whisper.

Our escort is named Rami Trivet. He has curly pumpkin orange hair and sea green eyes. He wears a pair of enormous pitch black shoes on his feet. With his snow white skin and ridiculous make-up, he almost looks like an escaped circus clown. He must not be very good at his job because escorting the District 9 tributes is a pretty low deal. Of course, it could be worse and he'd be stuck in 10, 11, 12, or 13.

"Hello citizens of District 9. I hope you are as excited as I am for this very special reaping day. Today we are going to send three brave young teenagers to represent District 9 in the 525th Hunger Games. Oh, how I love the games, they are such an intriguing sport. I am sure you all enjoy seeing your tributes fight." The man is literally bouncing up and down with the microphone in his hands. His upper lip bumps the device and a shrill squeaking noise floods the square. I throw my hands over my ears, too loud!

"I am very sorry for that brief interruption and I trust you'll all forgive me in time. Now let's get this show on the road!" I am shaking as he walks over to the first reaping ball. He seems to pick up the first slip he gets his hand on and trots happily over to the mic.

"Congratulations to a Miss Alara Lee. Is there a Miss Alara Lee to be found here?"

My name, my name, my name, oh, no this couldn't be happening! What was I supposed to do, I didn't have a strategy. My family wasn't supposed to be touched by the Games. I desire to squeal and yell out for help, but the cries would be in vain. Lily and Kalma hug me tightly; however, I am now beyond help.

"You are a tribute," I think as I walk up to the podium. "You're beyond help; whatever happens to you can't be good. Maybe someone will let you win."

Not likely, but not impossible either.

My feet are planted firmly on the stage while the escort heads over to pick my first District partner. She picks out the slip and reads it then trots over smiling. "Harvey Crusoe, you will be our male tribute this year."

A pale, ashen boy of 17 years walks up. He has a long gash running down his neck. The wound is not bleeding, but it must have been recently.

"How did you get that?" I mutter to him.

Harvey, who is visibly shaken, stammers "My brother, Drake. He is a total bitch." The boy hollers a little too loud, as everyone is now staring at the two of us.

The escort looks at Harvey sympathetically before announcing, "It is time to decide who will enter the Hunger Games as the third tribute."

_**Jess Havrveron (D9, 14)'s Point of View **_

"I don't want to die in the Hunger Games," I sigh looking out into the sky.

My boyfriend looks at me, "If you're not picked, there is no reason for you to be in the arena."

"I wouldn't volunteer, I am not that stupid." I assure him.

"Me neither."

"That makes two of us," I laugh. Everyone in District 9 knows that volunteering leads to certain death and there is no reason to do so.__

Greg leans closer to me and we kiss. Our lips interlock delicately for a few sweet seconds. I wish the kiss could last longer, but the moment of bliss only goes on for a few seconds.

"We better get going anyways." Greg tells me.

"I, I just wish we didn't have to go to the reapings. I bet the District's nice and quiet without anyone around." I muse.

"Me neither, but we have to face it. If we were called and weren't present..."

"Don't think about that, please. Maybe if we pretend it won't, no one we know will be sent in. And the tributes that do will die quickly, or win for our District." I tell Greg as the two of us begin to pick up the remnants of our picnic. District 9 is mostly an urban area, but there is a small park.

As I fold up the bag, I hear a distant cry. I sigh remembering my unnamed baby sister who was born when I was five. She was a stillborn, which is rare these days- even in a poor District. But it isn't something really to think about all that much. I still have my parents and my brothers Ty and Richard. Even though I try not to think of it, my eyes start to fill with tears.

"Is there anything wrong?" Greg asks me.

"Oh, nothing at all, just an old and distant memory," I assure the 15- year old.

Hand in hand, we walk over to Greg's house nearby the outskirts of the park.

"I'll see you with the others before the reaping I suppose?" He asks me.

"Yes, good luck just in case." I said.

"You too, Jess," after my boyfriend shuts the door behind himself I start on the walk to my house. It isn't too terribly far away, but it feels like it.

Living in the food processing District isn't all that bad, you get used to it. There are six sectors to my District, almost like the stripes on the food pyramid. One sector processes dairy, another meat, another fruits, another vegetables, and so forth. Then there is the merchant class part of town, which most kids are strictly forbidden to enter unless invited. The rich are not the friendly sorts here, so I am glad I live in an average family. My parents work in testing and quality control in a meat processing plant.

I step up the front porch and twist my house key into the doorknob. Everyone is usually out, but today it is different. Still no one is surprisingly in the living room and I make my way to my room.

That morning I had laid my reaping dress out on my dresser. The fabric is a nice shade of bright yellow. I also decide to wear a white jacket over it.

A loud, sharp knock beats on my door. I automatically know it is one of my brothers. It seems that you can tell different knocks from different people after living with them for years. Mom's knock is soft and seems to say "I'd like to come in, but if not, then that's okay." Dad's knock is pretty normal and you can always tell it's him because he asks for you while knocking. Then Ty and Richard, my twin 17- year old brothers, both have sharp urgent knocks.

"Come on in," I call while pulling my left arm through the dress.

Ty brushes the door aside and comes in to sit on the bed. "Hi Jess, it's almost time to go."

"I know." I put on my jacket and walk over to the mirror. I grab my blonde hair and begin to braid it. For some reason, I always like to French braid my hair.

"It's taken you awhile."

"I was at a picnic with Greg."

"Oh, Greg," Ty smirks as he bats his eyes.

"Hey, I can still see you through the mirror!" I laugh, slightly annoyed by my brother.

"I know, I know." My brother says, holding his hands up in the air.

After finishing the braid, I walk down to the kitchen where my family is waiting. Together we walk through the crowded streets of the District. Families and friends crowd closely together and all are afraid of what may happen to their loved ones.

However, I can't say I am terrified for my own safety. If I were chosen to go into the Games, wouldn't there be a reason? I was always taught there was a perfectly logical reason for everything in the world, even if it wasn't scientific. Some things are just how they are and can never be explained.

I exchange a few friendly words with my friends as we are all shuffled into the sections. I catch a glimpse of Greg being ushered with the other 15- year olds and wave to him. He smiles back at me.

Our Mayor, a middle- aged woman by the last name of Champ, greets us and thanks us for coming to the square. "Now, as it is a tradition, before we reap our tributes we will read the Treaty of Treason."

Everyone in Panem has heard the speech many times in their life. It was passed between the rebels and the Capitol after the bombing of District 13. The Treaty was edited and reinforced after the brief, but widespread Mockingjay Rebellion.

I wish I didn't have to be here. The only other option is the death penalty. Executions, those seem to be the Capitol's answer for everything!

Our strange- looking escort then bounces up onto the stage. "Hello citizens of District 9. I hope you are as excited as I am for this very special reaping day. Today we are going to send three brave young teenagers to represent District 9 in the 525th Hunger Games. Oh, how I love the games, they are such an intriguing sport. I am sure you all enjoy seeing your tributes fight." This man is so insensitive! Suddenly, a loud shriek echoes throughout the area and I give a natural shutter. I can't seem to remember his name and as he approaches the glass ball, I think of it.

A girl my age, named Alara is picked. I recognize her from school; she is a chatterbox if I've ever seen one. A boy named Harvey is picked and he calls his brother a bitch a little too loudly.

Rami, I can finally remember the man's name, heads for the final reaping ball. This is my last chance to be sent to my death this year. Half of my slips are in this ball.

"Our lucky third tribute is Jess Havrveron!" I draw in a gasp as the camera searches desperately for me. A jolt of fear seizes my body, but only paralyzing me for a second.

Holding myself together, I walk to the stage. If I just kept low and acted sweet and innocent, I could pull this thing off. I am probably visibly shaken as I shake hands with Alara and Harvey, but inside I am able to keep myself together.

"Citizens of Panem I give you your tributes of District 9- Alara Lee, Harvey Crusoe, and Jess Havrveron!"

Now all I need to do is prevent my cannon from firing.

**AN: I just thought of something! Since I won't be writing point of views for my fodder, I will only have ONE POINT OF VIEW FOR THE NEXT WHOLE THREE CHAPTERS! Sorry that is exciting for me because it's basically the equivalent of combining one reaping into three chapters and get 3 Districts down at the same time. I think my updates for those Districts will be easier, and then I have two District 13 tributes to write for.**

**I am definitely skipping train rides. Another point of view for chariots and interviews, third person scores, and I think it would be best to write the training in the point of view of the different tributes. **

**On a random note, I have a Land Before Time song STUCK IN MY HEAD after I decided to look those movies up on YouTube because I used to LOVE them. **

**See you all next update!**


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: It is probably blatantly obvious by now that I don't own the Hunger Games._

**AN: Thanks to the awesome J.K. Mewling who told me in band that I should combine the next three Reapings into ONE chapter. Why I didn't think of this before? So here are Jai Warren of District 10, Scarlet Marian of District 11, and Alder Grey of District 12. Thanks to their creators! I will now be killing three birds with one stone, not literally but you know. Then after that I will present District 13 to you. **

**Oh and someone guessed that Alara Lee is really Shauna's sister, Asma, but to that I can say nothing. Please guess though, after District 13 next chapter you will know every tribute. Plus, I can safely say none of the bloodbath characters are her.**

**Okay and I have a slight announcement. Due to a sudden plot development in my mind (I actually have a good amount of the deaths written out) the morning before the arena will work a bit differently. The tributes will all be in separate compartments in one hovercraft with their stylist. The compartments will break off and become the launch rooms. It's complicated as to why I need this to happen so just bare with me.**

**Um and does anyone know how to convert stones to pounds? Sorry I don't know much metric (I think stones are metric) and someone used a stone measurement in their forum.**

**Oh and I don't have a point of view for Yarrow and Daisy even though they are not bloodbaths. The bloodbaths are Rose, Bloom, Ester, and Casey. Still without giving too much away, Daisy is more of an important plot character (if you'd count her as that) since she was the only one I could fit into the role. I still kill her off pretty early. I would tell you the exact date but I keep merging days and subtracting them (there were two days when NO ONE dies, so I cut them both out). I have estimation on what the Games will last, but that depends if I want the final 3 and 2 on the same day. Then there are some days when I think there are too many deaths that I may break up. Not that I haven't already done that to Day 2 to begin with…**

**I started writing this on the leap day, but I am not sure if I can publish it on February 29****th**** too. Now it's March and obviously not. But still I really like leap year days! **

**Chapter 14: Districts 10, 11, and 12 Reapings**

_**Jai Warren (D10, 12)'s Point of View **_

"Hide away so they can't find you," Naomi tells Bliss, who is sitting on the couch of the holding room.

Todd nods solemnly, "But if they try to kill you…"

"Kill them right back," Graeme finishes.

"I don't know if I can," my 12- year old sister stammers.

"You can and you have to come back Bliss Warren," Mom says, wrapping her arms around Bliss.

"And if I don't come back…" Bliss cuts of her statement as tears begin to flow down her pale face.

Dad brushes a few of those tears away, "Then we will remember you forever."

I sniffle and manage to blurt out, "Bliss Warren, victor of the 522nd Hunger Games of District 10."

"It's impossible Jai and you know it. Twelve- year olds from District 12 never win." She tells me solemnly.

"But that doesn't mean you can't try." Mom whispers to her.

The Peacekeeper guarding the door walks towards us after that. "It's time for you to get going. The train leaves in 15 minutes."

"Sorry sir, just one moment." Mom sits on the couch next to Bliss and gives her a tight hug. Then she pulls something out of her pocket and hands it to my sister. "Take this as a token."

"Come on Sheska," my dad calmly beckons her.

As we are lead away, I get a good glimpse of the only token of our home she will be allowed to take to her death. It is a silver- colored anklet with two wing charms.

That is the last time I would ever see her alive. Bliss Warren was killed in the bloodbath, she placed 21st out of the 24 tributes in the arena. Her District partner, Ryder Harley, was killed a few minutes later.

I rub my hands over the blunt edge of the kitchen knife. It is unlike the one that killed Bliss, but it lacks the title as a real weapon. The day my sister died, after crying my eyes out, I took it out of the drawer and stored it in my room. The next day I decided to teach myself to use it. I am no good with it, but if it came to survival I think I may be able to pull through.

Pushing back my wispy black hair, I lean up against the kitchen wall. This is my first year eligible for the Hunger Games. My siblings are also eligible since Naomi is 14, Graeme is 17, and Todd is 16. Three of us could very well be picked to enter the Games, the thought is horrible.

I conceal the knife in the drawer and wonder what I should do. Maybe I could walk around barefoot, like I always love to do. No, District 10 is terribly hot in this time of year. There used to be parts of two states called Texas and Oklahoma where I now live.

None of us could die in the Quell. It was terrible and painful to lose Bliss and I don't want my family to be forced to feel that way again.

"Jai," I hear the familiar voice of Naomi and turn around to see her entering the outdated kitchen. "Do you think I look alright?" Naomi is wearing a bright blue dress that had belonged to Bliss. Naomi is my height despite our age difference and is a bit smaller than Bliss was.

"You look great. But wasn't that the dress Bliss was reaped in," I comment.

She sighs, "Yes, yes it was. But I can't do any better, I wish I could though."

"Do you think its bad luck," I ask, "I mean to wear that dress?"

"No, I don't believe so."

Dad, Graeme, Todd, and Mom then enter the room in almost perfect formation. Everything is silent and solemn. None of us Warrens like Reaping Day and what it stands for.

I run my fingers over my grubby white shirt my mom made for me. It will be time to go soon and watch three citizens of District 10 be sent to their certain deaths.

"Whatever happens," Dad tells us, "It'll be okay. I have no worry that you will be picked." I can tell from his expression though that he is terrified for us.

The walk to the Town Square is long and tiring. Other families are also on their way, but I keep quiet. I don't want to talk to any of them.

After arriving, I give my finger to the Peacekeeper who pricks it. I shudder as my blood is slammed onto the square with my name. He nods, allowing me to go forward as Todd holds his finger out.

Silently, I make my way to the other section filled with petrified looking 12 year- olds. I talk to none of them; anyway all the chatter is quiet and nervous. No one ever wins from District 10, it is an established fact. Even though last year's victor was from 8, the Careers always dominate every year.

The escort is named Shelby Buggington. She has buggy violet eyes and skin dyed a sickening shade of green. Her hair is wild and curly and pale blue in tone. Capitol alterations are insane. Her clothes are also wild and strange.

"Good afternoon District 10!" Shelby cries out to the crowd. "We are going to win this year and I can just feel it. In this Quarter Quell, we will have three tributes from this wonderful District. Isn't that something? Now we have one more chance to win the crown!"

The mayor coughs from behind her. I hear the voice of a girl behind me, "She is such an idiot." Then, "Quiet Rose!"

The escort makes a long- winded apology and the mayor reads the long, and equally boring Treaty of Treason. I am already shaking in fear, oh no! Staring down and the ground, I blink back tears from my eyes. Calm down, calm down. My claustrophobia doesn't help in the cramped conditions. I am squeezed in an unnatural way, or so it feels.

"Alright then, let's pick our tribute girl." The escort walks to the ball and sticks her hand into the pool of slips. She draws one out and there is silence as she opens it. "Rose Dwarfs."

I hear a growl from behind me. The girl that called the escort an idiot nonchalantly walks up to the stage. She spats at Shelby's feet and announces loudly and sarcastically, "Thank you for this wonderful opportunity. I guess I'll see you again, Shelby, in Hell." The crowd is absolutely silent. This girl has just warranted herself an early death.

"Okay then, I don't even believe in Hell." Shelby bites right back at her. To avoid a fight, she walks right on over to the next bowl. The digs around and pulls out another manila slip. "Our male tribute is Jai Warren."

I go pale and freeze in place. Someone nudges me to go on ahead. What? Yikes, I was so afraid- this wasn't happening to me! It couldn't be! Trembling, I head up towards the stage to stand beside Rose. She curtly nods at me.

I don't pay attention as the escort goes to pick the final slip. "Daisy Parvana," it reads. A medium- height, 15- year old girl with caramel brown hair pulled into a bun walks up towards the stage. She is thin, as if she has been starved most of her life.

"Any volunteers, and please state who you are taking the place of." No one, there is complete silence, as always.

"Okay then. Ladies and gentlemen I give you the tributes from District 10- Rose Dwarfs, Jai Warren, and Daisy Parvana!" I smile weekly as everyone claps weakly and gives us sympathetic looks.

_**Scarlet Marian (D11, 12)'s Point of View **_

Reaping Day is one of the few days we get off and don't have to work in the fields. My District is massive and it is a wonder they fit us all into the Square for the Reaping ceremony.

District 11 is mainly full of dark- skinned people. My family looks different; maybe we have roots in the wealthy part of town. Grinning weakly in the mirror, I tie my red hair up into a pony tail.

Suddenly, I remember the dream of the night before. In it my parents die, except they are not my parents. They are two unidentified individuals being gunned down in front of me. But the woman isn't my mother and her husband is not my father. Or he could be I have never met a father. My twin brother, Jet, and I were always told that we were all the family we'd ever need in life. Sometimes I wonder though. The most unusual part of the dream is that my mother is still alive.

My reaping dress, which is long and dark blue, is lying on my moth- eaten mattress. I put it on and attempt to twirl around in it, but the dress is flat. Stupid girl, you know better than to imagine.

The door creaks open, "What?" I automatically snap. I turn around; it is Jet who is wearing a white dress shirt and dark brown pants.

"Oh Scar," my twin quietly says, "Ma wants you in the main room." I nod and follow him.

Our family's main room is a kitchen and living room combined. There is a table, a stove, a pantry, two couches, the heater, and a television. It is small and there isn't much space. One hallway leads to three bedrooms. Our home isn't much and is crowded with the homes of many other field workers.

"Scarlet, Jet," Ma sighs at the sight of us. She motions towards two kitchen chairs, "Sit down."

"Why?" I ask. She sighs and tells me to just sit. Then, she announces that she has something important to tell us.

"Well, you have been told that you both have a memory disorder so that you cannot remember anything past a couple of years ago. Well, I can't really explain that at all, but I can tell you what I told you aren't all true." She starts.

"You've lied to us!" I snap at her.

"Scarlet Marian, don't interrupt. Well you are not my children. I found you on the borders of this District after working in the fields a couple of years ago. The Healers estimated you to be 9. I registered you in the Capitol's District 11 citizen registry as Scarlet and Jet Marian because you didn't know your names. There were red marks all over you both as if you'd been attacked. I asked the mayor to inquire to the Capitol about them, but I never got a response."

"Who are we then? I want to know," I snap at her.

"It doesn't matter who you were, all that matters is that you are here now." She fills in. Jet just shrugs I think he is too shocked to say anything.

"Why can't I remember anything?" I ask forcefully.

The woman who I thought to be my mother sighs, "No one knows. But listen, I am your mother know. End of story, you are legally adopted. You are lucky you came to the borders of the District; you were in no state to live in the woods. And you were lucky the Capitol didn't find you and think you were criminals and sliced out your tongues."

I shrug and snap, "I think we should go and see if we are sent to our deaths."

Tears swarm Jenna Marian's eye. "I have always loved you as my children; just remember that if you get reaped."

Jet approaches me and places something in my hand; it is a ring with an imprint of a leaf. "Take it if you are reaped."

"Thanks," I say. "I'll give it back if you are."

"If we're both chosen, I want you to take it." He finishes and I nod my head.

When we arrive, I thrust my finger at the Peacekeeper. "Just get it over with," I answer. I feel a prick of pain for a second and he smears my blood on the card. I don't understand the difference between my blood and the blood of every other kid with their names in the ball, but I head to my section anyway.

I ignore all of my peers in the crowded section. My best friend, Marissa approaches me and nervously says hello.

"Oh hi Marissa, wonderful day isn't it?" I note sarcastically.

"I just don't want to be sent to my death. My older sister took most of the tessarae, but my name is still in there." She sighs. I want to tell her about my discovery, but I think that now isn't a good time.

"You'll never believe what Ma just told me," I whisper to her. "I'll tell you after the Reaping, neither of us will be chosen."

As the escort, a young man in his twenties with crayon yellow hair and lavender skin, along with a crazy choice of make- up bounces onto the stage, I don't expect to hear my name drawn. I search my brain for his name; I think it is Cell Pike or something strange similar to that. Or maybe it's Dell Dike?

The Treaty is read and I don't even bother pretending like I pay attention. The truth is I really don't **care **to hear some Treaty made by my ancestors and updated by their descendants. Everyone has heard it before and what it stands for, so why bother?

"Hello District 11, I am Cell Pike here to choose your tributes for the 525th Hunger Games," the escort cries then he emits a sound which is a mix between a squeal and the cackle of a dolphin. "I just love the Games. So, without further ado, here we go!"

Cell slams his hands into the first ball and mixes the slips around. Three slips contain my name. Only one is in the 3rd tribute ball. My brother has the same amount as me, except he isn't eligible for the girls.

"And our female tribute is Scarlet Marian." Me? What? Wait, really, he called me? How should I react? I am fully surprised and I look down, my eyes wide open in shock.

"Go ahead Scar, you'll be just fine." Marissa promises and she hugs me. I gently brush her off and head up to the stage with my head held high. Determined yet scared, I know I should go to my death bravely and show no fear. Maybe I could win this, it all depends.

"Our male tribute is," the escort begins- oh please not Jet! "Yarrow Walters, come on over you are the next tribute!" A dark skinned boy with almost no hair walks up from the 13- year old section. He just shrugs and stands there.

Only one more place to go. I hope with all of my heart that neither Marissa nor Jet is called up to the stage. And I hope neither is plain stupid enough to volunteer to enter this stupid death match. The Capitol's cruel and I hate them and their precious Games.

"And our final tribute is Bloom Mozart," a 16- year old girl with black eyes and chocolate brown skin blinks back tears and walks up.

"Any volunteers," Cell inquires and I already know the answer. Just like I thought, no one comes up to save the condemned by putting themselves forth to die.

"Alright then, I give you your tributes from District 11- Scarlet Marian, Yarrow Walters, and Bloom Mozart!"

_**Alder "Al" Grey (D12, 18)'s Point of View**_

You always get an interesting variety of people coming in at the General store. Many of them are wealthy, some of them being snobbish. But some are kind. Rarely anyone ever comes from the Seam, but when they do they are gaunt and hungry- looking. I probably came from there, not that I was much better off in the community home. I never met my parents, but was taken away. They didn't try to reclaim me, but it is too late. Once you turn 18, you are free to leave the community home and after your final reaping they kick you out onto the streets. I was smart and left on my eighteenth birthday. The Coffees hired me to work in their store.

The familiar ring of the small bell announces the arrival of customers. I see three teens walk into the store. They all have the same blonde hair and blue eyes, but I know they are not related. Merchant class citizens almost always look alike.

The only girl, Kite Lowe, similes and waves in my direction, but her brother, Swift, gives her a sharp stare. "Come on, Al's nice." Kite protests, but the elder boy, who is only a year younger than me but a lot smaller, shushes her.  
"Don't you know that we're not supposed to associate with dirt from the Seam and the Community Home? Do you know how much better of we'd be if the trash was just let out to starve?" Swift's words bite through me.

"But then there would be no coal or medicine," Kite reasoned. "Do you want to spend all day working in the half- burnt ancient mines or that dusty old factory?"

"Hell no, but I will be mayor someday anyway." The third boy, who is about my age, proclaims. The two boys seem to completely ignore my presence altogether.

"Casey Trump, you are so insensitive. Come on, our parents wanted flour so we might as well actually get it." Kite sighs as she turns to the racks. She shoots me a look that says, "Sorry." I am used to it. A lot of the rich merchants seem to think that it is perfectly acceptable to scorn anyone poorer than they are. Still, I can't feel hate for the merchants all that much. They don't lead as dangerous lives and are lucky. Back in the Home, Emmer never failed to remind us that we could die in a mine accident. Her husband went in one a long time ago and the woman never failed to be a witch to each and every one of us.

While the customers shop, I stare down at the piece of coal in the palm of my hand. It is small and round with a small crystal embedded in it. I found it one day while I was by the mines. I don't care that stealing is punishable by death; all that this would mean is one less piece of coal to heat someone's home. And that someone probably is either rich or a Capitol citizen or both.

Soon after, a middle- aged man and woman walk into the door. A 12- year old girl trails behind them. I recognize them as Lupine and Bracken who work in the Community home. The girl is Saffron, and she has been like a little sister to me for years. Her face is red as if she had been crying recently.

"Hello," I greet them.

"Oh, hi Al, how are you today?" Lupine asks me, pushing back a strand of graying blonde hair.

"Pretty good, I am relieved today is my last year of eligibility for the reaping though." I tell them.

"Ah," Bracken comments, "One day and you never have to worry about being chosen again; at least until you have someone else close to you of reaping age."

"Do you worry about the orphanage kids?" I inquire.

"Oh, yes, I worry about them so much. Last year the girl was from the home, you remember Lindsay Michaels?" I nod my head, Lindsay was 15, and she was a fairly nice girl, always one for pulling pranks. She was killed in the Bloodbath on the first day; she was the second to die.

"Shame she had to die," Saffron points out. She runs over and hugs me. "I am not going to be picked, am I?" Her fear has made her seem like she was smaller than she really is. "You'd promised that you would come to see me."

"I was," I assure her. "Right after I got off my shift. You okay?"

"No, Emmer made me take tessarae!" She whines.

"She does that for everyone. It's for her gain; no one else wants to do it. Hey, I took tessarae slips too." I assure her.

"Why?"

"Because even though the Coffees pay well, I need something to fall back on, and it helps if you don't get chosen."

"I think I am going to be reaped." Saffron declares.

"You won't be reaped." I pull the piece of coal out of my pocket and thrust it in her olive- toned hand. "Here, for good luck."

Saffron's gray eyes go wide, "Where did you get this?"

"You can keep a secret, right?" She nods, "I found it."

"Thanks and bye!" She then skips over to Lupine and Bracken.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" I ask them.

"Why yes, we want to have a nice dinner tonight, if none of the children are picked. We have bread and some goat's milk, but I think sugar cubes would be nice to give each of the children. We have fifty currently, one small one each, if that isn't too much to ask for." Lupine asks me.

"Sugar is a buck per cube. You probably don't have fifty to spare." I announce and flash them sympathetic looks. "But I will go up and see what we can do about it. Can you keep a watch?" My old caretakers nod their heads as I climb up the stairs to the little flat above the store.

I find Britta Coffee sitting on the couples' couch watching the reapings on TV. District 8 is playing, and a flirty red- haired girl makes her way up onto the stage. She is doomed, like so many others will be after today.

"Hello Alder, can I help you with something?" She asks, "Chester is out momentarily."

"Two workers from the community home want to buy sugar, but don't have enough money to spare. Could you do with bartering with them?" I ask.

"Well, okay." She answers. Her blue eyes meet my gray ones before we walk down the stairs. "You know my husband and I never had any children, but Al you are like a son to us."

"Thanks," I tell her.

"Be careful and don't get reaped."

"Not planning on it," I tell her as we walk down the staircase.

When I enter the store again, the 3 merchant class kids are staring cautiously at two boys in their late teens. I immediately recognize them as my friends, Finch and Kestrel. The two boys snigger to each other and Kite just pretends not to notice. The citizens from the home give a recognizing nod to Finch. Finch also grew up in the community home. Kestrel was the son of some merchants, but his parents kicked him out onto the streets when they learned he was gay. He lives with his boyfriend, Finch, in a small pad in the Seam. I knew why Casey and Swift laughed like they did and I knew this wouldn't end well.

"Hey you boys over there," Finch snaps.

"Finch," I warn him. But he ignores me, typical.

Kestrel walked over to me and said in a low voice, "I really am worried about him; it's time like these…"

"That makes you feel as if he is going to get him arrested or something." I fill in and Kestrel nods his head.

"You were judging me?" Finch snaps at them. The boy called Casey walks straight up to him and stares him in the eyes.

"I am only saying what's true." Casey snapped.

"Casey," Kite warns as she walks over to me and puts their purchases on the counter. I ring them up, not paying attention. Kite hands me the payment and adds in a decent- size tip. "For you, and good luck," the 16- year old girl says.

Swift walks right beside Casey and the two hold Finch's gaze for a few moments. Kite opens her mouth to say something, but shakes her head as if she decided not to.

Finch is about to swing a punch at Casey, when Saffron gives out a cry. "Don't Finch!" Kestrel, Britta, Kite, Bracken, and Lupine all nod in agreement.

"He is asking for it, you know that?" Finch snaps. Swift walks away and grabs Kite's arm. He picks up the bags, "It's time to go home. And you'll be in big trouble if you gave an unnecessary tip again." Kite waves farewell as she is lead outside by her brother.

"Dare say what you were going to," Finch challenges.

"Okay you are a faggot and you have aids and you're…" Casey begins, but Britta Coffee runs up the separates the two boys with ferocity that I have rarely seen before.

"I don't want any fighting in my shop," she proclaims. "Get what you were here for and get going."

Kestrel buts in, "Finch and I were just here to wish Al luck in case we don't see him at the reaping."

Later in the day I find myself handing my finger to the Peacekeeper for the final time. "Alder Grey," I tell him. Once I go through check, I see Saffron in a pretty violet dress. Kite is a few people away and she is wearing a fancy Delft- blue gown. I wave at both; it would be a shame if either got picked.

Once in the 18- year old section, I go and find Kestrel and Finch. We mutter greetings as the Treaty starts being read. After it is over, a ginger- haired escort with plum colored skin walks up to the platform. "Welcome all to the reapings for District 12 for the 525th Annual Hunger Games."

"Our girl tribute will be Ester London." A hush falls over the crowd as a nonchalant- looking Seam girl strides up to the podium. She gives the escort, who I think is called Ginger, and evil look and just stands there.

Everyone knows who she is. Ester is the daughter of Berkeley London who went on a killing spree a few months ago. He went mad slaughtering people left and right. The family has been shunned ever since. From what I hear they are all just as insane as he was, and she looks like it. I was there during the execution and saw all the blood, it wasn't pretty. I wonder what she felt. She showed no emotion, standing there with her mother and younger brothers, who were all in tears.

"Now for our male tribute, Alder Grey." Wait, no. What if there was another Alder Grey? Am I really going to be a tribute? No one else walks up and my name is called again so I begin to walk, showing as little emotion as possible.

"NO!" I hear a scream from behind me. I see Saffron dark out under the ropes of the 12- year old section and dodge several Peacekeepers. That girl is speedy.

"Don't go Al, you can't," she begs, "You're the closest thing to family I've ever had- ever."

"I have to Saffron, I am so sorry." I apologize as Peacekeepers come to take her away.

"Come on girlie," one says in a burly voice, "If you really want to volunteer wait a few minutes and if you have to say something wait until good- byes."

"No," she protests. I can see Kite running out of her section, blonde hair flying behind her. She grabs Saffron's narrow shoulders, but is pushed away.

"I want all of Panem to hear what I have to say, now." She says looking up at the escort, "I mean if that is okay with you."

"Well," Ginger sighs, "I can't imagine the viewers liking it if we cut off this moment here."

Saffron places the piece of coal into my hands, "You gave this to me and you said you found it lying on the streets. It's yours now to take into the Games." I try to say something as she blinks back tears and continues, "I want everyone to know that you can win. District 12 rarely ever wins, but we've got a victor in you. Good luck."

The Peacekeepers seize her, but Kite places her hand on one of them. "I got her don't worry. Saffron is your name, right?" The younger girl nods and the two walk back into the crowd disappearing from my view.

I grip the piece of coal and stare at its clear crystal for a second. Then I turn around and finish my walk up to the stage.

"That was emotional," Ginger blinks back tears and her mascara begins to stream down her heavily powdered face. "Well our third tribute is Casey Trump."

It's that boy from earlier! He is the son of the mayor, that snob that was a dick to Finch. I won't be rude to him; I won't finish a fight a friend started. Even though I want too, I am passive. I can see Finch speaking now, "Serves the bastard right."

"Any volunteers," No one moves, and we are tributes from that moment on. I will die, unless I live up to Saffron's expectations and I will try, though I know I won't make it.

**AN: This chapter took me AGES AND AGES to right. Anyway happy April fool's Day, no pranks for you guys as I am the world's worst prankster. No, really I didn't manage to convince my friend of my joke Catching Fire cast… or my mom that she had spiders, green go, and unicorns, on her head… or my friends on this one forum that books had been banned in a list of random countries… or my writing teacher yesterday that I had fainted under my desk (that one was foiled by my classmates).**


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer- I still do not own the Hunger Games or any related material. If I did own the Hunger Games, Finnick and Prim would not have died._

**AN: I mis-numbered last chapter. Yes, now you all can confirm my comments on me sucking at math. Well really it tends to be the simple stuff that gets to me. **

**Here are the chariot rides! This is told from Star's point of view, you know the Capitol girl in one of the prologues. It was between her and Shauna, but it would be better if someone actually there was narrating. Plus, you'll hear from Shauna very soon, and I can't exactly say that for certain about Star. But if I do make another Submit Your Own Tribute, I will have tidbits from her. I am considering making the Games after this a Submit Your Own Tribute, but that all depends. Anyhow, I am about half way through the crazy pre- games stuff after this chapter. According to my estimations, the Games will start about Chapter 22. Thanks to whoever gave me ideas for the outfits, I used them with minor alterations. And thanks to J.K. Mewling who actually drew the District 3 outfits, it was only for two of the tributes but oh well I just replicated. I can't remember if she posted it online, but I'll ask her and I will link if it is accessible. I tried to draw these costumes, but you don't want to see me draw people in crazy costumes- literally…. They are very out of dimension, but I came to terms with the fact that I am never going to be a world famous artist a long time ago.**

**Next chapter we start the days of training. You will get to see the flaws and skills of each tribute and see alliances forming; I can't make it that exciting. There will be no chapter detailing Gamemaker's sessions but there will be a chapter with the announcement of the scores. Each submitted tribute WILL get a training point of view. So we will get to see tributes we haven't in awhile. Everyone alive will randomly get point of views in the Games. And even if your tribute or your favorite, isn't narrating they still may be featured. So we will now get to see tributes I haven't written in months.**

**When we get to training scores, I will warn you that some won't be the best. No one will get a 12 and no one will score a 1. As far as I know, the highest score is a 10 and the lowest is a 2. Scores will be given by me based on how I think they would come out and NOT how they fare in the Games, except the Bloodbaths with the exception of one Bloodbath. And I may dock a point or two if I think the tribute is too perfect. **

**Chapter 17: The Chariot Rides**

"Ladies and Gentlemen, here is District 1!" There is a loud cheering noise as the tributes my father helped to style- he was in charge of the boy- roll out onto the streets. I smile at Father with pride, fully knowing that his creations will be amazing.

Two multi- colored, horses bring in the three tributes. The two girls, Aaliyah and Zarina, have their hair pulled into buns. On top of their heads are solid gold crowns that shimmer with diamonds embedded in them. They both wear long transparent glittery dresses with every kind of jewel intricately placed around them. The dresses have a v- neck with a silver trim around it. Both are smiling and waving at the crowd enthusiastically. Jewel has white powder on his skin and his hair is sleeked back so no strands fly lose. He wears a magnificent silver crown much like that of his partners. He is wearing a black leather suit with a striped- fur coat tumbling to the ground. His pants are short and end in a perfect line. It all looks normal at first, but every time he moves a diamond shines in the spotlight. He is flirty and blows kisses at everyone. Many of the girls in the crowd giggle and swoon. While he is hot, I'll admit, I am not one to fall to that level.

"Amazing job this year Dad," I congratulate him, he gives me a gruff nod. Does he really accept my praise? Probably not, I bet he only cares about what the critics think. He doesn't pay attention to me or my little brother, Adam, at all. I don't think he gives a damn what happens in our lives or who we hang out with. My friends weren't even allowed to come to the box with us! And they can never stay for dinner, and my parents have to be out of the house when they come.

"And now for District 2," my focus once again turns to the entrance where to muscular black horses pull out another chariot.

District 2 usually has amazing outfits, and this year is no exception. The tributes come from the District of quarries, as well as the District of weapons and intelligence. The boy tribute, Sai, is decked in stone armor- it wouldn't really be useful- but it is realistic. Underneath the breast plate and knee- length coverings, are ripped pants and a shirt that looks as if it was been made out of pure granite with bits of color embedded into them. In his large hands, is a sharp deadly- looking sword with intricate details designed onto it in black. Pace and Rhine are both spitting images of each other- other than the fact their hair and eyes are different colors. Their skin is spray painted the color of light brown marble and they wear large, poufy floor- length dresses with a dark gray trim. Their hair is tied in identical French braids and they wear feather boas around them that look to be made out of small knives. Canaletto is playing tough and simply nods at the audience, Pace is smirking at the crowd with a know- it- all expression on her face, and Rhine is smiling and waving- it pleases the crowd even though you can tell it is forced.

District 3, the technology District, is the next to enter the parade. The tributes are dressed in spandex body suits. They wear white boots that appear to have buckles running up them. Amy's is white and she is wearing a rainbow- striped sash, there are rainbow flashing lights strung over the outfit. Wolf and Mario are decked in identical outfits. Their body suits are a color that seems to be either navy blue or black. Their sashes are white and they have white lights strung all over them. Their stylists did a really good job. Mario is glancing around frantically, Amy is smiling and waving, and Wolf is waving with a cocky expression on his face.

"And now for the famous ocean- side District 4," Everyone watches in anticipation as the chariot of the 3rd wealthiest District rolls out onto the streets. Their horses are blue and seem to have manes made from seaweed. The chariot has an intricate wave and shell pattern painted on to it.

I will never be allowed to admit it, but the stylists from District 4 have done a wonderful job this year. They are my father's competitors though and I wouldn't dare make him angry about that. Eos and Erin both are wearing seashell- bras, Erin's are sea- green and Eos's are pale blue. They both have floor lengths skirts made of seaweed and sandals made from silver fish scales. Their hair is slides gracefully down their backs and is pinned by a fish hairclip in the center. Fargo is wearing a loose- fitting brown shirt that looks as if it has been woven out of nets. His pants are made from seaweed and he has the same fish- scale shoes covering his feet. He is wears a crown with pictures of mythological sea gods on it. His hair is in a spiked fashion. Eos manages to smile sweetly at us in the crowd and Fargo is smiling and waving to us. Erin is looking serious and giving a few waves here and there.

Next, District 5's tributes roll out. Their outfits are not really all that amazing this year. Mela and Chrissy are wearing long white dresses with DNA patterns etched into them. Jeno is wearing the same thing, but it is a dress shirt and pants. They all wear black boots and strange make- up. Jeno waves to people in an attempt to be charming- it is definitely working. Chrissy is sitting there with a nonchalant, bored look twirling a strand of her light- brown hair. Mela, however, is acting like a total idiot laughing and muttering random nonsense. That behavior isn't going to get her any sponsors- ever.

District 6's outfits are not really that special either. Keith, Julia, and Nate are all dressed up as, what are those pills? District 6 used to produce cars, but after District 12 got the medicine factory and it flopped- District 6 is the main supplier of medicine. Similar things happened to Districts 5 and 9. Anyway, they are decked out in oblong suits with two different colors. Julia is wearing pink on the top and white on the bottom, Nate has lime green one the top and neon orange at the bottom and Keith has baby blue at the top and blood red at the bottom. They are a strange sight, parading through the Capitol. Keith is nodding abruptly to the crowd, Nate is looking very arrogant, and Julia is smiling warmly and waving. Districts 5 and 6 are certainly not going to get many sponsors based on tonight's outfits.

Next, District 7's chariot rolls down the street. This District has an infamous streak of dressing up as trees, and this year is no exception. All three of the tributes are wearing dark brown dresses, even Ray. What were they even thinking of? And the leaves plastered on their tops look extremely fake. Such an insult to the skills of fashion the Capitol has. Tilda is just smiling and waving to coin that phrase. Adrianna, who is standing beside her, smiles shyly at everyone. However despite being in a dress, Ray is smiling an amazing white smile at the crowd. This District has been doing better in recent years, yet the stylists are terrible as always.

The next chariot belongs to District 8, the textiles District. The tributes this year as representing thread. There is a measure of thread tied around each tribute, but it does not cover their faces or arms. At their feet, there are light brown wooden discs. Their hats are perfect duplicates. They are spools of thread, each with a different color. Francesca's is pink and it horribly clashes with her red hair, Xander's is navy blue, and Seren's is teal green. Francesca is acting all flirty and blowing kisses at the boys, Xander waves looking scared, and Seren just stands there, smiling shyly at everyone.

District 9 is a tough one to think of an outfit for. They used to be in charge of just grain, but 200 years ago were in charge of the whole country's food processing. However, the stylists decided to go back to the basics and the outfits turned out really cool. Jess and Alara are wearing long floor- length dresses that billow out from their waists, the dresses look like they are made from every type of grain you can imagine. Harvey, on the other hand, is wearing a suit variant of this. The colors are vibrant, lively, and probably unnatural. Alara and Jess are both acting very sweet and innocent and Harvey is waving to everyone. However, Harvey doesn't look all that thrilled to be present. How could he not be? He might just become a victor in a few weeks.

District 10 is, well, District 10. The livestock District is hardly creative and dresses up the tributes almost every year as cows and bulls. Well, this year they did the same thing. Jai is in a strange bull costume that appears to have a knife sticking out of it and red goop that must be fake blood. He is smiling and waving in an attempt to make up for the costume. Rose and Daisy are both decked out in cow suits with multi- colored flashing spots. Daisy is waving with a large grin on her face and Rose is sitting there with an unsatisfied smirk on her face.

"And now for District 11," the announcer cries and everyone diverts their attention to the chariot that rolls out onto the street. Scarlet and Bloom both have their black hair pulled back into buns. They are wearing sleeveless green tops that appear to be made out of leaves and have little red apples on them. Their short skirts appear to be made out of bark. Bloom isn't doing anything and Scarlet is waving. Yarrow is dressed as a farmer in denim overalls and plaid. He has black boots and a pitch fork in one hat. A tan cowboy hat lies on his head. He waves at the crowd.

No one ever expects anything out of District 12. This year the tributes are wearing pitch black body suits and their skin is darkened with coal dust and soot. There are black swim caps on the boys hair (since Casey is a natural blonde and Alder has dark brown hair), and Ester (who already has black hair) has her hair tied in a tight bun. Around their middle seem to be large pieces of coal that billow out. They have leg, arm, and neck holes. They look corny and terrible. Ester and Casey roll their eyes and look desperate and ready to complain. Alder's face is slightly red, but he manages to keep his cool.

The final District, 13, is the next to roll out onto the streets. They look extremely corny. All three tributes are dressed as nuclear power stacks. Their skin and outfits are spray painted tan and there is a large circle shaped hole above their heads where steam billows out. Only their faces are visible. Angelina is standing with a sour expression on her face. Zene is just kind of sitting there, and Ariadne is smirking at the audience.

The thirteen chariots carrying this year's thirty- nine tributes roll into the Training Center where they will spend the remainder of the days before the Games. May the odds be ever in their favor.

**AN: And that was the chariot ride. Next update is the first day of training and who you get to see will be a total surprise. See you all soon!**


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: All tribute names were put in a random selector on the internet. There is only going to be one training chapter though, taking place on the first day. I will post a list of alliances at the end of the three days at the end. Why? Well mainly because I really don't want to write out three whole days of nothing but learning how to survive and fight. Oh yes and only one Bloodbath tribute goes into an alliance. **

**So here is what the following chapters will look like:**

**Chapter 18- Training Scores Presentation**

**Chapter 19- Interviews**

**Chapter 20- Bloodbath **

**Anyhow sit back, stay awesome, and read this chapter!**

**And I also need the males from 2 and 8 for my parody SYOT if anyone is interested in submitting for that. **

**Chapter 17: Training **

_**Tilda Axelway (D7)'s Point of View**_

Ray, Adrianna, and I ride down the elevator that will take us to the Training Center. I am not really nervous; I know I can use an axe. I'll see about entering any alliances though. I stare at my partners- Ray will probably join up with the Career pack and I don't think the small blonde girl even _has _a strategy. She was quiet all though the train ride and breakfast this morning.

We are all wearing the tribute training outfits, black suits with red stripes and our District number on our shoulders and back. I wonder if any of the others will be there. Suddenly, the elevator stops at the floor marked "3" and the District 3 tributes walk on in. There is a red- haired girl, a small boy, and a large muscular male tribute. I make a note to watch out for the muscular boy. Would the careers try to recruit him? Would he accept? There are no more stops the rest of the way.

The six of us file out of the elevator. Already present, the District 1 tributes are chatting in a tight knot, they are careers, born and bred killers. Also, the District 8 tributes have scattered.

That blue- haired chick Aaliyah diverts her attention towards us and smiles. She then turns back to her allies and mutters something. I just shrug it off and walk to the axes, better start with something I know how to do.

Selecting a throwing axe, I don't bother listening to the instructor's commands. I'm from District 7; I have been using axes for ages. Throwing the axe in an overhand swipe, I watch it rotate and hit the target, just a bit from the center. Yes, I throw another one and it is a little less accurate.

Then I feel the odd sensation of somebody watching me. I ignore it and attempt to focus. Okay you have to only let the axe rotate once. Aim, fire, it flies towards the target and once again hits.

"District 7," I hear a voice and I turn around. The careers have been watching me, probably this whole time. Turning around, I am face- to- face with Ray and the three tributes from District 1. Behind them, the tributes of District 5 are filing into the area.

"Oh, hey you guys, you were watching me with the axe." I quickly blurt out.

"Yeah," says the girl with olive- toned skin, "You're pretty good. Personally, a bow and arrow is more of my thing though."

"I'll take it from here Zarina," the girl with pink eyes (I think they may be color contacts). "What we're saying is, you're from 7 and you are tough. You've got to be a career."

"Yes," I blurt out without thinking beforehand.

The District 1 tribute meets my gaze and continues, "So, do you want to join the alliance?"

I gulp, trying not to show my uncertain thoughts. I didn't really want allies, but these tributes will likely have Districts 2, 4, and maybe more backing them up. They could target me if I say no, and if I accept I'll get temporary protection. I know my decision was already made for me.

"Of course, I was just warming up." I tell them. So, I guess that makes me a career. My mentor won't be too displeased I guess.

The strange girl who asked me to join introduces herself as Aaliyah. The boy with the sleek black hair is Jewel, and the other District 1 tribute I already knew is called Zarina. Then there is Ray and me, the beginnings of an alliance.

"So, we need to do a run through of the training arena and wait for Districts 2 and 4 to arrive. The Head Gamemaker will welcome us and then we start the day off," Aaliyah strategizes pacing back and forth.

"Wait," Jewel interrupts, "The other girl from 7, is she a career?"

"No," I said, "I have seen her around. She definitely hasn't trained a day in her life."

It doesn't take very long for the tributes from Districts 6, 5, 9, 10, and 2 to arrive. The two girls and boy come over.

"Careers," states the girl with dirty blonde hair.

"Yes," Aaliyah greets.

The other girl with slightly wavy brown hair nods, "Rhine." She doesn't look like she really cares.

"Canaletto," the boy grunts.

"Pace," the blonde girl finishes. She looks nice, but has a cocky, arrogant demeanor surrounding her. The others and I quickly introduce ourselves.

"Is District 4 here yet?" Ray asks our allies.

"Nope, but they should come here soon. I say we don't accept that Eos girl, she looks weak." Aaliyah commands all of us.

"Anyone else you think we should ask?" I ask the alliance members.

"How about the boy from District 6 called Keith, he looks tough. And we could ask the boy from District 3, Wolf." Aaliyah commands and motions us to follow her over to wear Wolf and a red- haired girl is standing at the edible plant station.

Rhine shoves the red- haired girl, who is also from District 3 aside, and turns to stare at Wolf. "Do you want to join the career pack?" She questions him, we all stare him down.

"No," Wolf comments firmly.

"What did you just say," Aaliyah says as she walks foreword pushing over Ray and Pace.

"I said no, I'd rather do these Games alone," he firmly says. The Girl from District 3 looks at the bravery of her partner with widened green eyes.

"Let him go," I sigh, "Just one less tribute to worry about in the alliance."

"No," Aaliyah snaps at me.

Pace is the next one to speak up, "Tilda's right, it's not like we can force a tribute into the alliance or anything."

We walk from the station as the final tributes all shuffle in. There are thirty- nine contenders, in a few days only one will be alive- the victor. Tall and plump, a woman with carrot- colored hair calls everyone to attention. We line up in a nervous half- circle. A girl from 4, Erin, strides over to us and Canaletto wordlessly accepts her.

"Attention tributes, your first day of training will begin very shortly. I hope you all have been enjoying your stay in the Capitol thus far. Until four o'clock you will have free range to train here. There is one exercise everyone must complete and the rest are optional. I advise to study everything because you will need it in the arena. It's very well if you can fight, but you must also know how to survive. In the end, only one will remain standing. Everyone must now head to the first group station." The woman moves her hand in the direction we must go in. Everyone walks and lines up. There are several podiums we must jump between, and trainers with weapons are waiting in between. I am standing with the boy from District 5 and the girl from District 8.

Confident, a 15- year old girl from District 13 is the first to jump onto a podium. She stares foreword and bolts ahead. Leaping, a man with a sword almost hits her. District 13 loses her balance and falls on her rump. She pulls herself back up and wordlessly leaps again, barely dodging another sword. Lightly stepping on her feet, she arrives at the last and jumps off. Not too bad, but not the best either.

Canaletto is the next tribute up. He runs ahead and pushes the swinging weapon away. He dodges the next in mid- air. Acting like a show- off, he manages to clear the course.

Eos from 4, the boy from District 9, the girl from 12, and the rosy boy from 8 all take their turns next. None of them do particularly well. Fargo, the boy from District 4, manages to clear the course and then Chrissy, from 5, makes her way across. One by one the tributes attempt the challenge. Then District 5 completes his run of the course, and it's my turn.

_**Mela Servitore (D5)'s Point of View**_

The girl from District 7 mounts the podium and automatically takes off running. I saw her with the careers, meaning she's a threat. She isn't that fast of a runner, but manages to jump away from the blows and complete the course. Then she goes and walks to her allies who have finished. Energetically, the girl from 8 walks up and barely manages to do her work after several falls. Up, next is me.

Automatically, I know what I am going to do. I bolt foreword and purposely trip getting up there and slide down. Maybe my strategy will result in some bruises. I hear the careers snickering. Just wait for the arena.

I hoist myself up and slide foreword, barely missing the sword. Dang it, I wanted to snag my outfit on it. The next will have to do. With my good coordination, I purposely mess up the whole way and eventually land on my hands, crumpling to the ground.

While walking away, I spot the freaky pink- eyed girl from 1 mount the podium looking satisfied.

I instinctively move towards Chrissy, one of my District partners. Jeno has gone off and is conversing with a girl from 9. They both know my secret. Beside Chrissy is a girl from 11, I believe her name is Scarlet. Earlier, I had talked to Chrissy and Jeno about forming an alliance, Jeno declined and Chrissy never got back to me.

"Hi Chrissy, Scarlet," I whisper as I walk towards them.

"She knows," Chrissy hisses at me, "About your strategy."

"What?" I gasp, "I don't have a strategy."

"Don't play dumb with me," the 12- year old snaps, "I heard you talking with your mentor about it on the rooftops last night." I shake my head, so I couldn't even have a moment of peace outside.

"Okay, well you'd better not tell anyone," I tell her in a low tone. I shuffle the others to a corner where none of the other tributes are.

"We can't just trust her." Chrissy reasons, "If it meant her life I am sure she'd give the info up."

"No I won't," Scarlet snaps.

"The only other possible strategy is killing her off in the bloodbath," Chrissy sighs, "Which I guess wouldn't be that bad after all." Her last comment is purely sarcastic.

"Or an alliance," Scarlet boldly snaps, "If you promise not to kill me."

"Alright, allies," I state.

"Why not," Chrissy says.

"I guess, probably won't win anyway," Scarlet sighs. "Let's go to the edible plants station, I know what to do there at least."

I eye my new allies, should I trust them?

_**Julia Thomas (D6)'s Point of View**_

I am at the archery section when I meet Jess of District 9. I have spent a few minutes there desperately trying to learn to shoot a crossbow. Swiftly, I let the arrow fly and it hits my target, several inches away from the dummy's heart. Not too bad, I guess.

A short, blonde- haired girl from 9 approaches me. "Mind if I try," she asks me sweetly.

"No I don't I tell her." She shoots and misses the target, the arrow flies to the neck instead of the heart.

"You should keep your arm straight when you fire," I demonstrate to her. She tries again to no avail.

"Oh well," the girl sighs. The careers are standing a few feet away, snickering madly. The boy from 1 strides up and pushes District 9 away. "I'll show you how it's really done." He hits the target dead on, five times.

"You think this is funny," I snap at him, "Do you like being a pathetic lap dog?"

"I'm not a lap dog darling," He says calmly. I roll my eyes at him.

"Just go away District 1," I snap at him. Jess looks at me with widened eyes. The careers stomp away and go to laugh at another tribute. I recognize one of my District partners with him, Keith!

"That was really brave; I'm Jess by the way." The girl tells me.

"Thanks, I'm Julia. Those guys are just idiots, idiots that happen to have weapons." She gives a weak laugh at my comment.

"One of your District partners was with them," Jess tells me, "What do you think about that?"

"It's terrible, but even though I don't know Keith personally I've heard what he's about and I can't say I'm not surprised." I tell her, "He's probably the worst bully, beats kids up for the heck of it."

"That's pretty bad," Jess sighs, "But then again you have useful information."

"I guess I do. Do you want to be allies?" I ask the girl from District 9.

"Sure, you probably won't kill me." Jess comments and we walk over to the knives where the 12- year old boy from District 10 is practicing. He's pretty good, though he occasionally misses. Anxious and afraid, he looks at anyone who passes him skeptically.

"Do you think he could be our ally too?" Jess asks me, "He knows what he's doing and I don't think he could be a threat." I nod my head and we go over to talk to him.

It takes some convincing, but the boy, Jai, eventually agrees to join our alliance. I look at the three of us and smile, I trust them already. Who says one of us can't win the Hunger Games?

_**Alara Lee (D9)'s Point of View**_

Happily, I skip over to the edible plants. I might as well look like I am having fun, right? Besides, I'll likely be dead in a couple of days anyway. Standing there is a boy about my age with dirty blonde hair; I believe he is from District 5.

"Hey mind if I try?" I ask him.

"Sure, I'm Jeno from District 5."

"Alara, District 9." I tell him as I start clicking. A few minutes later, the screen reads- "Congratulations you got a 97%."

"Good," I say.

"Still, in the arena though..." He says and breaks off.

"Who knows what they'll put, of course we'll be prepared though."

We get talking and I get to know Jeno, he seems really nice. I can trust him, of course. Anyone who is nice must be trustworthy. I mean we're all just children and we could say no. We could sit on our plates and refuse to play these Games, but we do anyway. Fight or flight that is every tribute's question.

I adjust my glasses before saying, "Maybe it would go better if there were two of us?"

"Sure," Jeno says, "I guess that means we're allies." I smile and nod. Both of us will probably die in the arena anyway, and there is a slight possibility that one of us may become the victor. One out of thirty- nine, but as a team we're two.

Soon, all of the tributes gather to eat lunch. The careers have flocked together laughing and poking fun at the other, weaker tributes. The girl from 6, another girl from 9, and the boy from 10 are talking to the 18- year old boy from District 12. Then there is the boy and girl from District 3 talking, the red- haired girl asks the muscular boy to become allies. He responds with an, "I'll think about it." She shrugs and goes to converse with the unhealthy- looking boy from 8. Then there are the girls from 5 with a girl from 11. Nearly everyone else sits by themselves, beginnings of the alliances and enemies.

**Alliances after the Third Day of Training (if your tribute doesn't get one, they may still have a chance!)**

**Careers: **Aaliyah, Jewel, Zarina, Pace, Canaletto, Rhine, Erin, Tilda, Ray, and Keith

**Alliance 1 (generic but this is labeled in my notes): **Scarlet, Mela, and Chrissy

**Alliance 2: **Julia, Jess, Jai, and Al

**Alliance 3: **Jeno and Alara

**AN: There are still more alliances that will be made… TRAINING SCORES ARE NEXT CHAPTER!**

**Also, there will later be a sequel to this story; more information will be given on the chapter of the Bloodbath! PM me to reserve (I also opened reservations to a few rl friends of mine, but they won't be allowed to hog…) Closed spots: girls from Districts 2,5,6, and 10. **


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer- *sighs* I don't own the Hunger Games._

**AN: This isn't that long of a chapter and probably isn't my best, but I considered just a list but THAT would be against the rules. So, I wrote it out like you would see on TV. If you want to get to the point, a final list can be seen at the bottom.**

**Do NOT have a cow on me if I gave your tribute a bad score. They might have been faking, are not "I got a 12" good, or are a weakling. These scores do not affect the outcome of the Games really in any way. So, JUST because your tribute happened to get a 4 doesn't mean I kill them at 2 A.M. on the second day. **

**Here is a little guide (in my opinion) to the scores. I am NOT condemning anyone through this.**

**12- Legendary greatness (a.k.a NOT happening in this story)**

**7-11- Career ability score**

**5-6- Pretty average**

**4- Okay, not too bad**

**2-3- Below average**

**1- Sucks so much it's legendary (a.k.a NOT happening in this story)**

**Chapter 18: Training Scores**

_(3__rd__ Person POV)_

The Hunger Games announcer, Bertha Kline, appears sitting at a desk with Caesar Flickerman the 16th- a descendent of the original Ceaser. The interviewer's hair is dyed a dark shade of crimson, last year it was bubble- gum pink.

"So Caesar," Bertha asks, "What do you think of this years' batch of tributes?"

"I do think there is a good mixture. In these Games, there are several promising individuals and several obvious bloodbaths. Most of the tributes from 1, 2, and 4 will be threats as always as well as many other possible dark horses." Caesar says and then stares down, "Oh breaking news everyone, we have received the final training scores.

"Fantastic," Bertha chirps, "Let's start with District 1's very own Zarina Peterana with a score of 7." Along with the seal of District 1, the picture of Zarina appears with a silvery 7.

"Then, with a fantastic score of 9 is Jewel Mylar."

"Aaliyah Lessia of District 1 has also achieved a score of 9."

"Pace Gibson, the younger sister of two victors, of District 2 scored 9."

"Sai, or Canaletto as he is mostly called, Ring of 2 now has a 10 to back him up in the arena."

"Rhine Emerson has also achieved the very high score of 10."

"Amy Rivers from 3 has officially achieved a 6 in training."

"Her partner, Mario Lichen, scored a 3."

"And finishing up District 3 is Wolf Cain with a score of 8."

"Next we have Eos Rivers from 4 with a score of 5."

"Then there is Fargo Colson of the same District who's scored a 6."

"Erin Olympia Parker has earned a score of 8."

"Then, we have Mela Servitore of 5 with a score of 3."

"We also have Jeno Shirak from the same District with a score of 5."

"Chrissy Santoro has scored a 6."

"Of District 6, Julia Thomas has earned a 5."

"Nate Biggleton has achieved a score of 4."

"Then we have Keith Stryker with a score of 9."

"From District 7, Tilda Axelway has scored an 8."

"Raynold, or Ray, Malone has scored a 9."

"And we have Adrianna Wilson, from 7, who has achieved a 2."

"Francesca Hamilton, from 8, has earned herself a 5."

"Xander Smith has scored a 2."

"Then, we have Seren Wispis with a score of 4."

"Next is Alara Lee, from 9, with a score of 5."

"Harvey Crusoe, from 9, has made a 2."

"Jess Havrveron has achieved a score of 5."

"From District 10, Rose Dwarfs has received a 4."

"Jai Warren has scored a 6."

"Daisy Parvana has scored a 5."

"Scarlet Marian, from 11, has scored a 4."

"Yarrow Walters now has a score of 2."

"Bloom Mozart has achieved a 3."

"Ester London, of District 12, has achieved a 6."

"Alder 'Al' Grey has finished with a score of 6."

"Casey Trump has scored a 5."

"Ariadne Rames has scored a 6."

"Zene Celsius finished with a 5."

"And, finally, we have Angelina Coin with a score of 3." The last tribute's profile fades away and the two hosts are smiling.

"Tune in tomorrow at 5 P.M Capitol Standard Time (check your town hall for your time in the Districts) where I, Caesar Flickerman, will be interviewing this year's courageous young batch of tributes! Then in two days, the Games will begin at 10 o'clock in the morning, once again Capitol Standard Time. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

The screen fades to black and this score list appears in big white letters:

Zarina Peterana- 7

Jewel Mylar- 9

Aaliyah Lessia- 9

Pace Gibson- 9

Sai "Canaletto" Ring- 10

Rhine Emerson- 10

Amelia "Amy" Rivers- 6

Mario Lichen- 3

Wolf Cain- 8

Eos Rivers- 5

Fargo Colson- 6

Erin Parker- 8

Mela Servitore- 3

Jeno Shirak- 5

Chrissy Santoro- 6

Julia Thomas- 5

Nate Biggleton- 4

Keith Stryker- 9

Tilda Axelway- 8

Raynold "Ray" Malone- 9

Adrianna Wilson- 2

Francesca Hamilton- 5

Xander Smith- 2

Seren Wispis- 4

Alara Lee- 5

Harvey Crusoe- 2

Jess Havrveron- 5

Rose Dwarfs- 4

Jai Warren- 6

Daisy Parvana- 5

Scarlet Marian- 4

Yarrow Walters- 3

Bloom Mozart- 2

Ester London- 6

Alder "Al" Grey- 6

Casey Trump-5

Ariadne Rames- 6

Zene Celsius- 5

Angelina Coin- 3

**AN: Next chapter are the interviews, which may take awhile to write. I have to write 39 of them... And I will go insane if this gets deleted again and you will get a chapter full of my undying rants, kind of like when Cweep hit (I bet it was them)….**


End file.
